


Blood and Thunder (DISCONTINUED)

by MindfulWrath



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Vampires, let me know, uhhhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-07-14 10:39:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7167773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MindfulWrath/pseuds/MindfulWrath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'd thought Percy was dead, buried him in the soft earth at Whitestone. Imagine Vox Machina's surprise when he arrived on their doorstep, covered in dirt and sporting a brand new pair of fangs....</p><p>(AU where Percy was turned into a vampire during the final confrontation with the Briarwoods.)</p><p>Edit: Sorry, all, I can't motivate myself to work on this story anymore. Too many mistakes in too brief a period of time. Thanks for the comments and support, and sorry again!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kalgalen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalgalen/gifts), [sparxwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparxwrites/gifts).



> A huge thanks to Kalgalen, who inspired this with exactly three words, and to Sparx and CassieDeRolo, who helped get me into CR in the first place.

"We have to do something about Percy," Keyleth blurted.

Every eye turned to her, raised from the evening's meal. Even Grog paused in his messy devouring to stare.

"By _do something,_ do you mean, find some kind of a cure?" Scanlan asked. "Or do you mean, chop his head off right now before he eats us all? Because I can get behind at least one of those, possibly both. But not in that order, of course."

"We're not killing Percy," Vax said, leveling a finger at Scanlan. The gnome raised both hands in a gesture of surrender.

"I never said which _one_ I could get behind," he said.

"Wasn't we just gonna wait 'til Pike got back?" Grog asked. "She's got all the fancy holy bullshit, she'll fix him, right?"

"I'm not sure we have that long," said Keyleth. "He's _starving_ down there. We can't keep him locked up like a—a prisoner, he's our _friend."_

"Sure, we can just let him walk around loose instead!" Scanlan said brightly. "I'm sure he won't eat us in our sleep. But when he does, I hope he goes for Grog first, no offense. Just more to eat."

"No, I _am_ a tasty morsel," Grog agreed, nodding.

"That you are, big guy," said Scanlan.

"I'm not saying we should let him walk around loose," said Keyleth. "Or—or maybe I am, I don't know, I just—I don't feel good about this. About leaving him down there all alone like this. What if—what if it gets really serious and he—he, I don't know, turns into mist or something, and then it gets bad. And he actually . . . _does_ start. Uh, eating. Us. You—you know, just, kind of, hypothetically, since we've been keeping him locked up down there all alone and he's, like, starving."

"So, what, you think we should feed him?" Vex asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Well—yeah, that's kind of what I was thinking," said Keyleth.

"Feed him _what,_ exactly?" Scanlan asked. "Or maybe _who._ Are we thinking more of a _who?"_

"I call not me," said Grog. "Huh, huh, dibs on not getting eaten, rest of you have fun drawing straws or whatever." He delved back into his mashed potatoes, apparently finished with the conversation.

"Whoah, whoah, whoah," said Keyleth, gesturing at the table to be quiet. "We're not feeding him _us._ That's ridiculous. We can get pigs or something."

"Will that _work?"_ Vax asked. "Like a . . . vegetarian vampire?"

"It's worth a shot," said Keyleth.

"Couldn't we use, oh I don't know, one of our staff?" Scanlan asked. "Instead of actually _us."_

"Scanlan!" Vex cried, affronted. "We _pay_ them!"

"So it'll be one less to pay!" Scanlan returned. "We can hire a new guy, no benefits, lower paygrade, you know, without the raises we've been giving? It's very economically sound, I know a _ton_ of people who do it all the time!"

"We're not _feeding_ our _staff_ to Percy," Keyleth said. "We shouldn't be feeding _anyone_ to Percy. I think the pig idea was good, why don't we try the pig? Nobody gets hurt, except the . . . the poor little piggy, but—but it's worth it for Percy!"

"How expensive _are_ pigs?" Vex asked, tossing her hair over her shoulder with an elegant flick of the wrist. "Because I've got to say, it'll be a lot cheaper to feed him one of us, provided he doesn't kill whoever it is."

"What is it with you and money?" Scanlan asked. "Why can't we just buy a pig? What's wrong with buying pigs?"

"How _many_ pigs?" Vex said. "Over how much _time,_ Scanlan. This is a long-term arrangement."

"So you'd rather just let him, what, suck our blood out but not all of it?"

"I think it seems sound."

"That's horrible. I don't have much blood to spare, so I think I should be exempted from the pool of applicants and the rest of you can figure it out."

"Except me," said Grog. He reached out to take Scanlan's plate and Scanlan slapped him on the wrist. "I called un-dibs."

 _"Un-dibs?"_ Vax asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yep, un-dibs, that's what it was. You gonna eat that?"

Vax pushed his plate over. Grog immediately set to cleaning it.

"Look," said Vax. "If it comes down to it, I'll volunteer."

"Oh you _will,_ will you?" Vex asked, propping her chin on her hand. "And why's that, brother dearest?"

"Because none of _you_ fucks are going to," he snapped, "and because I'm tired of listening to this argument. I'm going down there right now, anyone who wants to back me up can come along."

He stood, his chair squealing back across the floor. Keyleth leapt to her feet, and Vex stood swiftly after. Scanlan, with much grumbling and rolling of eyes, hopped down out of his chair.

"Grog?" Vex asked.

"Nope," said Grog. "I'm stayin' here and finishin' my meal. But, uhuh, call if you need me to fuck some shit up."

"We will, Grog," said Vex, patting him on the shoulder. "All right, brother dear, shall we go indulge your stupidity?"

"It's not stupidity if it works," said Vax.

"I'm . . . pretty sure it still is, actually," said Keyleth.

"Hush, let him pretend," said Scanlan. "He's delusional, it's best to just let it play out."

Together, the four of them took the long trek down to Percy's workshop. The door was locked, bolted from the outside. There was light under the door, and a faint sound of tinkering.

"At . . . least we know he's in there!" said Keyleth, falsely bright.

"Do you want us to come in with you?" Vex asked, laying a hand on Vax's arm.

He breathed deeply. "No," he said. "I think I'd better do this alone."

"Oh, good," said Scanlan. "Because I wasn't going in there anyway."

"Scanlan," Vex warned.

"What, he's creepy now, I don't like it. Well. Creepy- _er."_

"If anything goes wrong, we've got the earrings," Vex said to Vax, ignoring Scanlan.

"Or you can just yell, _oh god oh god he's eating me help help aaaggghhh,"_ said Scanlan. "We'll probably hear you. We _miiiiight_ not do anything about it. Just saying. It depends on how scary we think Percy is in that moment."

"Scanlan, shut up," Keyleth snapped. She turned to Vax. "If you get into trouble, just say, uhh, just say. . . ."

 _"Google,"_ said Scanlan. "It's a gnommish word, trust me on this."

"Google," said Vax, and nodded. "Got it. I . . . probably won't need it. But thank you all for standing by anyway."

"If anything _else_ happens, just put a sock on the doorknob," said Scanlan. Vex hit him on the back of the head.

"That's disgusting!" she said.

"What, they're two consenting adults, what they do on their own time is their business, I'm just saying!"

"He's my _brother!"_

"He's not _Percy's_ brother."

Keyleth leaned in close and kissed Vax on the cheek while the other two were bickering.

"Be safe, okay?" she said.

Vax gave her a tight smile. "I'm sure I shall," he said.

With that, he stepped up to Percy's door and knocked.

"Percival?" he called. "It's me. I wanted to talk, if that's all right."

"I can hear you just fine," Percy called back. There was a tension to his voice, a strain that belied his casual tone.

"Face to face, Percy," said Vax.

There was a moment of total silence from the other side of the door.

"I'm not sure that's entirely wise," said Percy.

"Wisdom has never been my strong suit," Vax said. "May I come in?"

"You don't need permission," said Percy. There was a slight, resentful emphasis on the _you._

Vax glanced over his shoulder at the others. Keyleth gave him a thumbs-up. Scanlan was pelvic-thrusting. Vax rolled his eyes, turned back to the door, and unlocked it.

"All right," he said, "I'm coming in."

He opened the door and stepped inside, shutting it softly behind him.

The workshop was neater than it had ever been—everything not in use was squared away in its proper place, the floors were swept, the tables wiped, the tools gleaming. Percy was standing in the far corner, shrouded in shadow, his arms folded.

"You'd probably better make this quick," said Percy. "I'm not certain I'm fit for company."

"Afraid you'll bite me, Percy?" Vax asked, smiling.

Percy did not return the expression. In fact, he said nothing, remaining utterly motionless. It was an uncanny stillness that did not suit him. Vax softened.

"Percy, we've been talking," he said. "About you. About this . . . issue you're currently having."

"So you've decided to kill me, then," said Percy. "Very well, I'll try to hold still. Do make it a clean cut, would you, Vax?"

"What— _no!_ I'm not here to _kill_ you," Vax said. "What on _earth_ would make you think that?"

"I'm a monster," said Percy. "An abomination. Like you always said, Vax, I've become the evil we wished to exterminate. I've done what I set out to do, it's honestly all right."

"I'm not here to kill you, Percival," Vax said sternly.

Percy's eyes flashed in the darkness, and he moved forward two steps, his motions fluid and predatory. Vax had to steel himself to keep from stepping back.

"Then what _are_ you here for?" Percy asked. His lip curled, ever so slightly, revealing a flash of white fang. Vax's heart skipped a beat.

"Percy," he said carefully, "I think we may have been a bit unfair to you in your time of distress."

"What, by locking me up in my workshop?" said Percy. "No, I don't think that's unfair at all. I'm a danger to myself and others, this is honestly quite lenient."

"You're starving, Percy," Vax murmured.

Percy froze again, right down to his fingertips. He was gaunt, pale, his skin greyish, especially around the eyes. He looked paper-thin, dulled, exhausted.

"It won't kill me," he said stiffly.

"But it might kill _us,"_ said Vax. "Keeping you desperate does no one any favors."

"Because the door might not hold me forever?" Percy asked, sarcastic.

"Because we're your _friends,_ Percy. We're not supposed to let you starve, no matter what state of life or undeath you might be in at the time."

Percy was quiet for a time, watching him.

"So why are you here?" he asked at last.

"To volunteer," said Vax. The words stuck in his throat. He wiped his palms on his trousers, itching to put his back against the door.

"Volunteer?" said Percy. "For what?"

Vax steeled himself once more and came down into the workshop proper, off the steps, stopping just out of arm's length of Percy.

"Dinner," he said. "Roughly."

Percy stared at him.

"You can't be serious," he said flatly.

"Dead serious," said Vax. "Pardoning the metaphor."

"I'm not— _biting_ you, Vax."

"Why not? I'm all right with it, everyone out there is all right with it." He jerked a thumb at the workshop door. "My sister thinks it's cheaper than buying pigs, so long as you don't accidentally kill anyone."

"You don't know what you're saying," said Percy, an edge of panic in his voice. "You don't mean this."

"I do, Percy," said Vax. "I mean every word of it. You're our friend, and we're going to take care of you, whatever that means. If it takes a little bloodloss on our part, so be it! It's a small price to pay for keeping you happy and healthy. We're not going to lose you over some stupid little thing like this. Friends _do_ this for each other, Percy. If it comes down to it, you can make it up to us sometime in the future. But you don't have to, and I want to stress that, _you don't have to make it up to us,_ because we're your friends, and we _want_ to be doing this. We want you to be happy and well, and we will do whatever it takes to make that happen. Do you understand, Percival?"

He swallowed, staring at Vax, then put his hands over his mouth and sighed into them.

"Yes," he said. "I—I suppose. If you're certain."

"Absolutely."

Percy sighed again, nodding. "Right. Right. All right. This is—fine. This is doable."

Vax spread his arms. "Well?" he said.

"I'm—not entirely sure where to start," Percy admitted, fidgeting.

"It can't be too complicated," said Vax. "Just bite, right?"

"Yes, well—yes, but that's rather—I don't really know the proper way to go about this," said Percy.

"Haven't you got . . . instincts, or something?" Vax asked, sweating under his armor.

Percy took a single step forward and was suddenly far, far too close. One of his hands reached up, seemingly of its own accord, and brushed across the side of Vax's neck.

"In spades," Percy murmured, and there was something in the bass of his voice that made Vax want to bend at the knee, to simper and fawn, to worship him with his hands and words and mouth—

He swatted Percy's hand away and snapped, "Stop that."

Percy shrank three sizes inside his own skin and dropped his eyes.

"Sorry," he said. "Sorry, I don't—I'm not sure what that was."

"Well don't do it again," said Vax, his heart pounding so hard it made his voice tremble. "Let's just get this over with, all right?"

Percy took a deep breath and sighed it out again. He reached up one trembling hand and laid it on Vax's arm, sending a shiver through him.

"All right," he said.

His other hand came up, tangled gentle and trembling fingers in the hair at the base of Vax's neck. Another shiver rolled out through him, as though the tremors of Percy's hands were being transferred to him. The clutched fingers pulled Vax's head back, gently, exposing his throat, and Vax put up as little resistance as he could. Percy leaned in, and his breath was hot against his neck, so hot, especially for someone whose hands were so cold, for someone who was technically dead, and Vax's heart was pounding and his knees were weak and his breath was coming short and—

The fangs sank into his neck, just a pinprick at first, and then a full-blown, ravenous bite. The pain shot through him, stiffening his spine, tightening all the muscles of his neck and chest and back. Percy made a low, desperate sound at the back of his throat and clutched Vax closer, pressing their bodies together. A wave of hot euphoria rolled out through Vax's body, starting in his neck and following his veins, making his knees nearly give and his hands clutch at Percy's coat for support.

 _Is this how it happens, then?_ he wondered, while weakness curled around his bones like smoke and his head grew lighter and lighter. _I'm beginning to understand the appeal of thralldom. . . ._

For uncounted minutes they stood thus, until Percy had stopped trembling and Vax had started, until the euphoria wore thin and Vax's head began to spin, his vision to swim with multicolored sparks.

"That's—that's enough, Percival," he managed, his voice thin.

Percy did not so much as twitch.

"Percy—" Vax gasped, panic clawing up through the pinkening clouds of his mind. He shoved Percy in the chest with both hands, his arms dreadfully weak.

After a moment's more hesitation, the fangs withdrew, although the mouth did not. Percy's tongue laved at the pinprick wounds in Vax's neck, lapping up the spilling blood. Vax's knees nearly went out again and his eyes just about rolled back in his head.

 _"Percy,"_ he breathed, addled and weak.

Slowly, slowly, Percy pulled away. He let go of Vax's hair and his shoulder and took a step back. Vax watched him, dizzy, as he wiped the blood from his lips with his thumb. He looked stronger, healthier—his cheeks were pinker and his eyes brighter and there was a vitality about him that hadn't been there before. He gulped, looking down at the blood on his thumb.

"I—I think perhaps it's best you leave, now," he said, choked.

"Is it?" asked Vax.

Percy glanced up at him and sent a chill scurrying down his spine. It was not an unpleasant feeling.

"Yes," he said. "And—perhaps someone else next time. Take it in—in shifts, as it were. If you're all committed to this."

"Well—I—that seems sensible," said Vax. "Yes. Right. Shifts."

Percy watched him for a moment, eyes darting over his face.

"Are you all right, Vax?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Yes, yes, nothing a good night's sleep won't cure," said Vax, which was mostly true. The side of his neck was tingling, prickling and cold as the damp of Percy's mouth evaporated from it.

Percy dropped his eyes and gingerly put his thumb between his lips, sucking the blood from it.

"Good," he said. "I'm glad."

For a moment, there was silence.

"I think you'd better go, Vax," Percy said. "Thank you. For this. For—everything."

"Anytime," said Vax. Unsteadily, he clapped Percy on the shoulder. "I mean it. Any time. Whenever you need us, we're here."

"So you've said," said Percy. "And I thank you for it. Please go, Vax. Now. Right now, please."

Vax felt a bead of blood tickle down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. Carefully, he removed his hand from Percy's shoulder.

"Understood," he said.

He hurried out, tipsy in manner, and closed the door softly behind him.

"Well?" Scanlan demanded. "Are you dead?"

Vax stared at him for a moment.

"Oh yes," he said, breaking into a grin. "Entirely."

 


	2. Chapter 2

The world was far less complex than he'd let himself suppose.

For example, when one awoke in the crushing dark with one's mouth full of wet earth, one went _up._ It was very simple. _Up._

When one emerged in the driving snow, fingernails torn back by clawing through the earth, spitting and sneezing and coughing, one felt the hunger. It was very simple. _Feed._

When one saw a figure stumbling through the snow, hot with blood amongst the cold, reeking of life, one attacked. It was very simple. _Bite._

It was when one was crouched like a vulture over the pale and lifeless body, blood dripping from one's lips and the hot fire of life in one's veins, thinking clearly for the first time . . . that was when things got complicated.

Percy had stared down at the dead boy, no older than fourteen, his sack of firewood spilled all over the ground, blood staining the snow around him crimson. With a shaking hand, he'd wiped the blood from his lips, looked down at it in horror. The contrast was nearly the same—blood on snow, blood on skin, the smell of it filling up his nose and making his head spin. The wet earth had frozen to his clothes, leaving him crackling.

Stunned, sick, he'd tottered away, away into the dark and waiting woods, catching himself on the crooked tombstones as he'd walked out of the graveyard. There had been no thoughts in his head for hours afterwards, just the warm glow of the fresh blood in his veins, the soft hissing of the snow falling around him.

At some point, it had come to his attention that he was no longer dead—yet still, he was certainly not alive. There was no pulse in his throat, the breath in his lungs nothing more than a courtesy of habit. Then, of course, things had become simple again, far more simple than he would have imagined possible, before.

He had to go home. He had to find Vox Machina. He had to remove himself from this place, much as his bones longed to remain in the soft and welcoming earth.

Percy got to his feet and began to walk, his skin already prickling with apprehension for the sunrise.

* * *

 

It had been just past midnight when he'd arrived at Greyskull Keep. He'd been traveling at night, all night, every night, for weeks and weeks. The nights had blended together, shifting from frigid to cold to warm as he'd made his way steadily towards Emon.

Two weeks in, the hunger had overwhelmed him, alone and exhausted and shaking. He couldn't remember, later, what it was he'd killed, be it human or animal or otherwise—he'd moved on before real consciousness could return, and all he could remember was the taste of the blood and the warmth in his body. He lost track of time, of all the nights he spent walking endlessly and all the days he spent cowering in the shadows.

But when he'd arrived, just past midnight with the stars glittering cold above him, things became, once again, simple.

A bolt had fired down at him from the darkness. He looked up, shading his eyes against the torchlight.

"I _beg_ your pardon," he'd called.

Shane's mouth fell open.

 _"Percival?"_ she'd cried. "Gods above!"

Without a further word, she'd darted down, hauled the doors open and stood there staring at him.

He'd stood staring back, invisible nails rooting his feet to the ground.

"Well?" Shane had said. "What are you waiting for? Come in, come in!"

The nails had gone, and he'd hurried inside, his skin prickling, his teeth aching.

How long had it been since he'd eaten, really?

And who would know if he did so now?

"I'll wake the others, Gods, they'll be so happy to see you!" Shane had cried.

Percy had held up a hand, warning.

"No," he said softly. "No, I think you'd better not. It can wait until morning."

"Wait? _Wait?_ We've all thought you were dead!"

"Not entirely incorrect," said Percy. "I'll be in my workshop."

* * *

 

It had been one hell of a reunion, hugs and tears and many, many questions that he hadn't wanted to answer. But he had answered, eventually, and the jubilant nature of the party had flipped like a coin to a deep and shifty-eyed suspicion.

It had been Scanlan's idea to lock him in the workshop. There had been far less argument than Percy had expected. Once again, things were simple: he was to stay in his workshop, and the others were to work out what to do with him. It was easy, at first—there was work to be done, and then there were things to be organized, and finally there were things to be cleaned. Messes had never particularly bothered him before, but now they got under his fresh-grown fingernails like wet dirt. He cleaned until there was nothing left to clean and then he started tinkering.

It was easier, at first, and he started off with simple things that he already knew how to build—arrows for Vex, improvements for Pepperbox and Bad News and Diplomacy—and then moved on to new ideas. He never had to stop to eat or sleep or any of the other hundred myriad things that had kept him from making progress the way he'd liked.

After six days, the hunger caught up with him, and focusing on his work became exponentially more difficult. The smell of copper reminded him of blood. The red of heated metal reminded him of blood. The heat of the furnace reminded him of blood. It was blood, blood everywhere, and not a drop to drink.

He began to consider the lock on the door, wondering how long it would take to tinker himself a little pick.

Fortunately, it was not long after that when Vax had come for his fateful visit, and Percy had been granted some relief. He'd sat in the corner of his workshop once Vax had gone, breathing, his eyes closed, the sweet taste of blood still fresh on his tongue. It was not sleep, and he did not dream, but it was a sort of semi-consciousness where he at least wasn't _thinking._ Things were very simple, there, although he found himself longing for the touch of cold Whitestone earth at his back, longing for a real rest.

Vax's gift lasted him four days, and then the hunger was back, gnawing at him, making his teeth ache and his tongue obsessively check his lips for missed drops of blood. He took to chewing on a length of copper wire while he worked, just for the metallic taste of it.

When a week had passed, he found himself considering the door again. People visited, every so often, knocking on his door and speaking through the wood, but never entering. He was half tempted to ask them to, but he knew how that would end.

Before he was twenty minutes into fashioning himself something to unlock the door from the inside, there was a sharp, businesslike knock.

"Percy?" Vex called through the door. "It's me. Can I come in?"

Percy's heart leapt. His mouth started watering, his teeth ached in their gums. He took the piece of copper wire out of his mouth and got up, relegating himself to the darkest corner of his workshop. He liked it best there, where the light did not fall quite so bright and he was farthest from the door.

"You can," he called back. He watched as the door drifted open and Vex slipped in, closing it behind her. There was no _tunk_ of a bolt sliding across.

It was very simple, he found. He was faster now, and she had never been as quick as her brother. If he pinned her to the door, no one would be able to get in without considerable effort, and by then . . . by then. . . .

"You're looking a bit peaky," said Vex, folding her arms.

"Yes, well," said Percy, looking anywhere but at her. "I feel like death, ahahah."

"Ahahah," said Vex. She came down into the workshop, her footfalls light, and bent over his worktable. She swept all her hair over one shoulder and twisted it a couple of times to keep it from falling in her face.

"Please don't touch anything," Percy said. He'd only _just_ gotten the place neat.

"Wasn't planning to," said Vex. She pointed at an explosive arrow, arranged neatly on a rack above the table. "Is that for me?"

"Ah, yes, it is," said Percy. His feet willed him to come out of the corner, to stand next to her. He could point out all the little intricacies of the arrow, how the firing pin ignited the powder, how the casing would blast away into shrapnel, and as she bent to examine the mechanism he could simply—

"Wonderful," Vex said, smiling. "Mind if I take it with me?"

"Be my guest," said Percy, gesturing to the arrow and its three brothers. "If you happen to find any black powder out there, I can make more."

"Ooh, yes, that'd be lovely," said Vex, picking up the arrows and tucking them under her arm. "Seems like you've been keeping busy, anyway."

"Perhaps not busy enough," said Percy. He could sense her warmth, even from so far away, like a second furnace had walked into the room. His tongue ran over the backs of his teeth, exploring the new protrusions for the thousandth time.

"Well, at any rate, we're working on getting you better," said Vex. "It shouldn't be _too_ much longer, I'm sure we'll find something."

"Yes, well, let me know when you do," said Percy. "Was there a reason you came down here, other than to collect my gifts for you?"

Vex looked at him for a long moment.

"You're getting desperate again," said Vex. "Keyleth says she can tell, and I'm not going to argue with her. So, I'm here to top you off. Or hold you over, whichever."

Percy's blood, still and cold in his veins, started flowing again. The air was warm in his lungs, sweet against the back of his tongue.

"I wouldn't say no," he said carefully.

"I'm sure you wouldn't," said Vex. "And for the record, I'm telling you right now, I'll have none of that neck-biting business you pulled with my brother. There'll be none of that with _anyone_ from now on, but especially not me and not my brother. This is strictly business. Understand?"

The memory of half a dozen chaste kisses made his cheeks tickle. His hands started itching. He shrugged.

"If you like," he said.

Vex turned her attention back to the worktable.

"I hope you haven't been bored," she said. "I'd hate to be dinner _and_ entertainment."

"You're neither," said Percy, perhaps more sharply than was warranted.

"I'm sure you've been making all sorts of lovely things down here," said Vex, peering at the project laid out before her. "What's this one?"

"Could we, perhaps, chat afterwards?" Percy asked. He could hear her heart beating, a constant drumbeat in his ears, and it made his mouth water. "Not to be rude, of course, it's just I . . . have trouble focusing properly."

Vex eyed him for slightly longer than was necessary.

"All right," she said, and dropped herself onto the bench in front of the worktable. She patted the space beside her. "Come on, sit down."

He had to fight to move at a normal human speed. It was so tempting, _she_ was so tempting, with all her hair draped over one shoulder like a waterfall, her slender neck that lovely oaken brown, the pulse ticking away just under the skin—but he crossed the space slowly, and perched on the bench next to her. She stuck out her arm and rolled up her sleeve, then grinned at him.

"There you are, darling," she said. "And don't get cheeky, or I'll pinch your ear."

Percy stared down at the arm in front of him. There were blue veins meandering under the skin, just visible, and the heat of her so close to him was making his teeth ache. His eyes slid up her arm, past her elbow, towards that lovely neck again. . . .

He took her wrist in one trembling hand and her elbow in the other, began lifting her arm to his mouth, and paused. He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes lowered.

"I—I do wish you wouldn't watch," he mumbled. "It's rather embarrassing."

"Oh, all _right,"_ said Vex, rolling her eyes. She shifted her body and turned her head away, casting her eyes to the ceiling.

Exposing so, so _much_ of that warm and pulsing neck, and in desperation, before anything worse could happen, Percy sank his fangs into her arm and took a deep, long draught.

Her blood flooded into his mouth, hot and heavy and iron-bitter, and his hands tightened on her arm until he must have been bruising her flesh, and he heard her yelp, a thousand miles away.

And _Gods_ it was good, he'd gotten nowhere near enough from Vax, only whetting his ravenous appetite, and he couldn't drink her down fast enough, couldn't restrain himself in the least. There was a taste of smoke and rain in her blood, a taste of shadow like her brother's, a sweetness of honey amongst the bitterness. He was lost in her, driven by her pulse and quickened by her blood, and he wanted more, more, _more,_ wanted to find her neck and drink his fill, drain her pale and cold and crimson, to rip her throat out with his teeth—

"Percy, darling," Vex said through clenched teeth. "If you don't get your teeth out of my arm in the next three seconds, I'm going to have your _head_ off."

 _No,_ he thought, and the word shivered like a real thing in his head, ran down through his hands and spread across her skin.

Things would be so simple, if she would only cooperate.

Something pinched his ear, hard. She hauled him off, and he watched in despair as blood flowed out of the holes in her arm and trailed over her skin. Some of it dripped on the floor and he had to choke back a whimper.

Vex took her arm back and clasped her other hand over the wound. The smell of blood was everywhere, his mouth thick with the taste of it, his bones hollow and his whole body aching for _more._

He swallowed down the blood and the self-loathing and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. His eyes were fixed on the cluster of red droplets on the pristine floor, and he could not shift his gaze no matter how he tried.

"There, now," said Vex, somewhat breathlessly. "That wasn't so hard, was it."

"Leave," he said. The sound of her voice was making his head ring like a bell, resonant. He could still taste her, and things were becoming so _simple,_ boiling down to such small words.

_Charm. Bite. Feed._

The foundations were already there, little threads of affection lacing the fabric of her, threads that could be pulled and plucked and tugged to make her _unravel_ for him.

"That's a bit rude," said Vex.

 _"Leave,"_ he growled, and some of the simplicity made its way into his voice, deepening it. Vex shrank away from him.

"Percy," she began, and then hesitated. She stood suddenly, and he felt the loss of her heat at his side. Without a further word, she backed out of the room, fumbling for the doorknob and hurrying out into the hall. The lock thudded home behind her.

Percy made it a good fifteen seconds before he dropped to the floor and licked up the spilled droplets of her blood, and then to the doorknob, where she'd smeared crimson handprints, and he was burning with shame but Gods, he was so _hungry. . . ._

When his tongue was raw and his stomach was sick, he huddled himself in the corner of his workshop, back to the roaring furnace, and tried not to think about climbing in amongst the ravenous flames.

* * *

 

Keyleth came to visit the next day. He could sense her standing on the other side of the door, whispering to someone. She was warm, even through the thick oak, so he put himself in his corner and stuck his copper wire in his mouth.

"Um," Keyleth called through the door. "Percy? Um, hi, it's Keyleth. Do you—do you have a minute? To just, like, talk? For a little while?"

"I have nothing _but_ time," said Percy, clenching the wire between his molars.

"R-right, right! Okay, great, um, _welll,_ it's just that, um, Vex and me were talking, um, about you, and about this whole—blood. Thing. And, and we thought, well, maybe we're being kind of stupid about the whole thing, um, by . . . using _ourselves_ as—uh, _you_ know—"

"Guinea pigs?" Percy guessed.

"No, no, well, yes, sort of, but I was thinking more . . . uh. Food. Using . . . ourselves . . . as food. Um. Which when you—when you say it like that, it's kind of, hahah, really uh. Messed up. So—so Vex and me were talking—"

"So you said."

"Yeah, um, yeah. And—and we thought, maybe we should dial it back a little, _you_ know, maybe try something, uh, not—not _human._ For you to . . . do your thing with. Annnnd I just sort of wanted to run that by you so you'd know what was up. Right? So does that sound—good? Does that sound like something you could . . . do?"

 _No,_ he thought, and once again, the word had weight and substance in his mind, tried to fling itself through the door at Keyleth. He caught it before it left his head and stuffed it back down inside him.

"If that's what the group thinks is best," he said, "then I'll be happy to comply."

"You will? That's—that's great! Oh, that's really great, I'm really glad. That's really such a relief, honestly, and—and, hahah, not just because it was my turn next, honestly, not just because of that, although _kiiiiind_ of because of that? But—but mostly not."

"So there's a pecking order, is there?" Percy asked, amused.

"Pecking—well I wouldn't call it a _pecking_ order, exactly," said Keyleth, and he could almost hear her fidgeting. "It's more just like, uh, who's willing to volunteer! Which, right now, is—is just me and Vax and Vex. Scanlan and Grog aren't uh . . . aren't really into it. A-at all. Really. Although I mean, Scanlan's so small, he's—he's probably, like, barely a snack, right? And Grog probably is like, all—rocky. And stuff. And I _know_ he doesn't bathe, so like, eugh, I bet he tastes really gross. Is this weird? Is it weird for me to be talking about this? This feels really weird."

"Keyleth," Percy said. "Would you like to come in?"

There was silence, so deep he could just barely hear the faint drum of her heart.

"Uh," said Keyleth. "Uh, I mean, I would—I would _like_ to, kind of, yes, but—but _Iiiii_ don't really think that's such a good idea, maybe. Um. Right now. But—but! Later, right, when you're less— _less,_ um, sure, I'd love to! We can—talk. Or something. You can—oh, you can show me all the stuff you've been working on! I'd love to see that, I always think you make really just—really _neat_ stuff, and I can show you the new spells I've learned since—well, since uh, since—"

"Since I died?" Percy asked.

"That, yes, um, that," said Keyleth. "But uh, for right now, I'm just—Vex and me are just going to go to the uh, the market, and find a—like a really _fat_ pig, right? Because they're . . . _you_ know, closer to people than like, other . . . things, and they're about people- _sized,_ and I guess they're kind of cheap so . . . so yeah! Pigs. Yep. That's what I'm . . . going to go do. Right now. It was really good talking to you! I'll be back soon. Ish. Soonish! Tomorrow at the latest. With a pig! For you. Okay, I'm going to go now."

"Keyleth," said Percy, before she started away.

"Huh? Yes?"

"Would you—would you mind terribly telling Vex'ahlia that I said I'm sorry? I behaved rather poorly with her yesterday and I . . . wasn't in a state to apologize for my actions at the time."

"Oh. Uh, yeah, yeah sure! I can do that. Good, um, okay then. I guess I'll just—go. Now. Unless there's anything else. . . ?"

"Nothing else for now," said Percy. "Thank you, Keyleth. I do so enjoy your visits. Any visits, really, but yours in particular."

"O-oh. Well! Um, thanks, I guess. I—I like visiting, too! Okay. Bye—bye Percy! For now. Um."

She hesitated, and then her warmth moved away. Percy let his head fall back against the wall.

 _Pigs._ Damned filthy squealing useless _pigs._ It was no less than he deserved, he supposed, for acting like an animal, but _pigs?_ It was insulting.

Slowly, he became aware of a second presence, lingering outside his door. He opened his eyes and stopped his breathing, listening closely. The fluttering of their heart was like a hummingbird, their warmth small and bright.

"Scanlan?" Percy called.

Outside the door, someone yelped.

 _"Aaah!_ Ohh, okay, so you— _you_ knew I was there! Damn, well, what gave it away? Old—Percy old buddy old pal. Hahah. Gee, was I humming to myself again? I really have to stop doing that, it just ruins _everything."_

"Scanlan," Percy said.

"I was actually _juuuuust_ leaving," said Scanlan. "So, really sorry, I can't talk to you now. Or ever, actually. In fact, why don't we never speak again? I think that sounds best, let's do that."

"Do make sure it's a _live_ pig, would you?" said Percy.

There was a strangled noise from the other side of the door. Percy relished it more than he probably should have.

"A—a _live_ pig, okay, look, I-hi-hi thought we agreed we were never speaking again, do I need to cast silence on you? Because I will, if you keep being creepy."

"If you'd like to open the door to have a look at me," said Percy, "you're more than welcome."

Scanlan was quiet for a good ten seconds, probably a record for him.

"Creepy!" he muttered. "So, so freakin' creepy!"

"You started it," Percy said.

 _"I_ was not being creepy," said Scanlan. Percy could just _see_ the expression of haughty superiority on his tiny face.

"You were lurking outside my door," said Percy.

"I was—observing!" said Scanlan. "I wasn't _spying_ on you, no, why would you even say a thing like that? Friends don't do that."

"I never said anything about spying," said Percy.

"You didn't? I'm pretty sure you did. _Iiiii_ think you're remembering wrong. That's probably what's going on here. For _shame,_ Percy."

"Would you care to come in here and say that to my face?" Percy inquired.

"No. No I would not. And, in fact, I'm not talking to you, ever again! Because you're creepy. So—goodbye, it's been very nice knowing you, but now that you're an undead abomination I'm afraid we can't be friends anymore. Call back when you're human again and we'll take a rain check."

Percy said nothing. The fun had gone out of it, replaced by a gnawing guilt and a churning sickness. Scanlan hesitated outside his door for a moment longer, and then his warmth, too, moved away, leaving Percy alone and cold in his workshop. In frustration, Percy bit his own arm, just to have his teeth in _something._

His flesh tasted like wet earth.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly, plot.

"I like this," Keyleth declared, strutting along with her head held high, clutching her staff to her chest. "It's like a—a girls' day out!"

Vex raised her eyebrows at her. "Yes, my idea of a good time has always been going out to buy live animals for our newly vampiric friend to slaughter."

Keyleth deflated. "Oh. Well. Y-yeah, I guess, when you put it like that, it's a lot . . . less fun." She sighed. "I wish Pike was here."

"So do I," Vex said emphatically. "It's bad enough having a vampire in the house, let alone having a vampire and _no cleric._ I shudder to think what'll happen when it all goes wrong."

 _"If! If_ it all goes wrong, you don't know that it will!"

Vex side-eyed her mightily. "This is _Percy_ we're talking about, darling. He was unstable enough _before_ he got turned, I shudder to think what he's like _now."_

"Probably—probably about the same! I don't see why it would be different. Why _he_ would be different, I mean, I wasn't—I wasn't calling Percy an _it,_ that was just a—a really bad turn of phrase, hahah, _you_ know, it happens. Um. But—but! I'm sure he'll be okay! He seemed fine when I talked to him yesterday."

 _"Seemed_ being the key word. _You_ haven't seen him when he's _feeding."_

"Oh. Is it—bad?"

"Horrifying," said Vex. "He gets all . . . _eugh._ I don't even know how to describe it." She rubbed her arm and shuddered.

"Oh," Keyleth said again. "Are you—I mean, are you _okay?_ You're not like, hurt? Or anything? Because if you're hurt I can do something about that, I have the spell and everything—"

"I'm fine, Keyleth," said Vex. "I'd just like to get this over with as soon as possible. _And_ find Pike."

"Yeah," Keyleth sighed. "That'd be—that'd be really good. Still no letters? Or anything?"

"Not a peep," said Vex.

The crowd of the marketplace swirled around them like a strong wind, a dozen currents of people all buffeting this way and that. Keyleth took Vex's arm to keep from getting separated from her.

"I'm really worried," she said. "About—about Pike."

"So am I, darling," Vex said gently. "We'll find her. Soon. As soon as we've dealt with the little problem in our basement. One thing at a time."

"Don't you think Pike would be really helpful in, ah, _dealing with_ the—the basement problem?" Keyleth asked.

"I think she might be very good at killing him," Vex said. "I'm not certain that's _quite_ the sort of help we want just yet."

"No, but—no, couldn't she—like she has that spell, that got the mind-whammy off of Vax when he was all . . . mind-whammied. By Lord Briarwood. Maybe she could—do something like that? For Percy?"

"I think this is a little more severe than a charm, darling," said Vex. She raised her head and pointed. "That way. I heard squealing. It's either pigs or Scanlan."

Keyleth did her best to smile. It was probably a good thing that Vex wasn't looking.

Together, the two of them made their way to a market stall where pigs were being sold. They were huge, lumbering things, two hundred pounds each at least, with squinty eyes and floppy ears and crooked teeth sticking out of their lips. There was a stout, dwarvish woman tending them, caked in a thin layer of dirt, her sleeves rolled up to expose veiny forearms.

"All right there, loves?" she said, as the two women approached. "Lookin' for a peggy, are ye?"

"A—a peggy?" said Keyleth, befuddled.

"Piggy," Vex translated. "And yes, we are."

"Well ye be takin' it home, or am I slaughterin' it for ye?" the dwarf asked, planting a fist on her hip. "Changes the price considerably."

"We'll take it home," said Vex. "How much?"

"Fer which one, lassie? I've got dozens of the bastards."

Vex peered at the snorting horde and pointed to a smaller pig, snuffling by itself in the corner.

"How much for that one?" she asked.

"Oh, fer that one? Five gold."

"Five?" said Vex. She folded her arms and lifted her head. Keyleth took a step back, knowing what was coming. "I wouldn't pay one for that little runt."

"Well, ye don't have to pay anythin' ef ye don't want 'im," the dwarf countered, leering at Vex.

"I'm sure it's a quality pig," Vex said. "But since we're removing it from the premises ourselves, I think we ought to be discounted."

"That was already taken into account," said the dwarf. "Five gold fer the runt."

"One," said Vex, "and we'll use our own lead."

"Pah! A bit o' string ain't worth four gold."

"And that pig isn't worth five. Three, and that's my final offer."

The dwarf chewed it over, then spat into the pig pen. "Deal," she said. She stuck out her hand and Vex shook it. Coin was exchanged, and the dwarf waded into the pig pen to tie a thin rope around the pig's neck. She hauled it out, fending the other pigs off with violent curses and her feet. She handed the lead to Keyleth, who took it like it was a live snake—which is to say, very gently, in case she upset it.

"All yers," said the dwarf. "Sure I can't interest ye in a bigger fella? That one ain't got much in 'im but mud and blood."

"That's plenty for us," said Vex. "Thank you!" And she sauntered away, leaving Keyleth to try and coax the pig along.

* * *

 

Percy was working on a new gun when Vex showed up with the pig. This one was clunky, boxy, ugly—but he'd had the idea of firing off a large number of bullets in a very short period of time and this was the most functional design he'd come up with. He was just building the frame of the weapon when the knock came on his door.

"Percy, darling," Vex called, her voice lilting. "I've brought you dinner!"

"Oh, joy," Percy said flatly. "Can it wait? I'm in the middle of something."

"No, darling, or else it's going to start shitting all over the floor. I'm sending it in, are you ready?"

"Have I got a choice?"

In answer, the lock _shunked_ aside and the door swung open. With first cooing and then cursing and then kicking, Vex pushed a reasonably-sized pig down the stairs and into the workshop, where it stood blinking its piggy eyes and snorting.

"There," said Vex, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "And I hope that holds you for a good long while, because it was three whole gold. You have _very_ expensive tastes, Percy darling."

"I'd like to remind you that this wasn't my first choice," he said, not looking up from his work. "Nor was it my idea. _You_ people came up with it all on your own, and I went along with it out of courtesy."

"What're you working on?" Vex inquired. He felt her come into the room, the heat of her body, the slow sinuous step on the first stair. He glared up at her and bared his teeth. She froze, eyes wide, heart pounding in his ears.

"It's not ready," he said, and went right back to it.

Vex stepped back out of the workshop, very carefully, very slowly.

"Understood," she said, her voice strained. "Best of luck. Enjoy the pig."

She shut the door a little more forcefully than was necessary. The pig snorted, and started nosing its way around his workshop. Percy tried to go on working, but it was impossible—the thing wouldn't stop snuffling around, and finally it knocked something over, and that was the last straw. _Dinner_ wasn't supposed to ruin one's perfectly neat workshop before being eaten.

He slammed down his tools and rounded on the pig, which was unconcernedly nosing into his charcoal and starting to eat it. He crossed the open space to the animal in less time than he would have thought necessary and grabbed it by the ears, hauling it back. It squealed, kicking its feet against the floor in a panicked little tap-dance.

 _"Gods_ you are unappetizing," Percy said, staring down at the animal in disgust. The heat of the workshop had left its skin slimy, its origins making it stink to high heaven. Percy wrinkled his nose. What he wouldn't give to have Vax back in here instead, so soft and so sweet and so _willing. . . ._

But the pig was warm, and there was blood in its body, and Percy was _hungry._

It squealed for a good five minutes before he managed to suck enough life out of it to shut it up.

* * *

 

When the pig was finally dead, drained to a sickly pallor, Percy wasn't quite sure what to do with it. He wasn't thinking particularly well, groggy and lethargic. In the end he stuffed it into the furnace, where the coals were hot enough that eventually they would crack the bones down into dust. He relegated himself to his corner and sat, doing nothing, thinking nothing, for uncounted hours. His body ached for rest, somewhere soft and dark and cold. His eyes closed and his head tipped back against the wall, but he did not sleep.

Eventually, there was a knock on his door. He pried his eyes open and got to his feet, still somewhat affected by his gluttonous lethargy, but thinking more clearly now.

"Come in," he called. There was no thought in him of heartbeats or warmth.

The door cracked open and Keyleth popped her head in.

"Um, h-hi, Percy, hi," she said. "Um. I—I remember you said you wanted to, maybe, talk, and—and I thought . . . maybe now would be good? Is now . . . good? For you?"

"Now is wonderful, Keyleth," he answered. "Please, come in. Have a seat."

"Oh. Oh! Great, well that's—great! Okay!" She hurried into the workshop, paused, then darted back to shut the door behind her. Percy went and sat at his worktable, and she joined him there, nearly but not quite shoulder-to-shoulder.

"How are you, Keyleth?" Percy asked. "Holding up all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm—I'm good, I'm doing . . . good. You know, keeping up with the—the druiding, _you_ know."

"I _do_ know," Percy said, indulgent. "You were saying you had some new spells of some sort?"

"Oh! Yes! I do!" And she launched off immediately into a description of all the wonderful things she had learned since he'd been, as she put it, _um, you know._ He listened, taking in every word, every nuance of expression and gesture, reveling in the sheer _normality_ of it. Despite everything, Keyleth was still Keyleth. Despite everything, she still treated him like he was Percy.

When she had run out of things to say (not to say she had stopped talking), Percy rescued her from her own awkwardness and began describing his newest invention. She listened, rapt, nodding at all the right parts and interjecting with _oohs_ and _aahs_ and clearly not understanding a word of it.

When the small-talk ran out, they sat in silence for a moment, while Keyleth fidgeted and Percy thought.

"I . . . want to know something," he said at last. "Something I've been afraid to ask, because . . . well, because I wasn't certain I wanted to know."

"O-okay?" said Keyleth. "Um. I'm . . . not sure I can answer, but I'll try!"

Percy folded his hands in his lap and sighed.

"What happened . . . after? After I died. I mean, clearly you've all survived, but . . . how?"

 _"Um,"_ said Keyleth, her voice gone high and thready. "Um, I'm not— _Iiiii'm_ not really sure that's, uh, _you_ know, I mean, the important part is we all made it, and the—the Briarwoods are dead, so that's—yeah! That's basically it, yep, that's really all there is to it, nothing else you really need to know. You've got the whole story now, yeah, that about does it."

"Keyleth, the last thing I remember is Silas Briarwood sinking his fangs into my throat," Percy said, his lip curling. "Please, _please_ tell me what happened after."

"W-well, uhh," said Keyleth, fidgeting. She ran a hand through her hair, exposing a flash of dark neck. "After you, um, _you_ know, uhhh . . . died. We—well, I guess, _I_ killed Silas. Um. Sunbeam, yay! Uh, hahah, so, so that was pretty cool. Um. We—we got . . . Delilah. Too. Um. Vax did. With—with some help from Grog, they kind of . . . well, she was—she was _really_ dead. Really. Um. Yeah. Then we sort of—destroyed that whole pyramid thing—which, was full of bodies? Um, for some reason? It was like, _super_ creepy, there was this altar thing, it was awful, but we—we broke it, Pike helped a _lot_ with that, she like, wow, it was amazing. And then we—kind of . . . went home. Um. Everybody in Whitestone was really—oh, oh! And the rebellion went . . . pretty good, I mean, _some_ people survived. Most of them, I think. They were— _you_ know. Sad you were dead, but—but they got rid of all those new-noble people and—I think that keeper guy was getting everything . . . together. Finding someone to . . . do stuff. Pike—um, Pike came to Whitestone for your . . . funeral. For real, like _real_ Pike. Um. And then she headed back to—to Vasselheim to do more of her . . . stuff. We sent word that you're here, _you_ know, that you're back, but we . . . haven't heard anything back yet."

"Did you ever find Ripley?" he asked.

"Nnnno, no, she was . . . she was pretty gone. Yeah. Sorry. Kind of . . . _rrgh,_ frustrating, but . . . that's how it is, I guess!"

Percy watched her intently. "And . . . Cassandra?" he asked.

Keyleth hissed in a breath through her teeth. "Ooh, yeah, she's—she's um. She's . . . dead, too. Um. We weren't—nobody was happy about it, but—what with everything, and—"

He hung his head. "I understand," he said. "I—I can't help but think she was being controlled, but—if . . . if Silas and Delilah were both dead, and she was still . . . against us. Against you. I—I understand."

"Yyyyyeaah," said Keyleth, eyes darting. "Yeah, that's—that's pretty much how it went, uh-huh, yep."

Percy's hands clenched until his knuckles creaked.

"Who struck the final blow?" he asked, his voice shaking with tension.

"I—Per-Percy, listen, I really don't think this is a good thing for you to be—"

 _"Who struck the final blow?"_ he repeated, and something in the bass of his voice made the bones of his skull vibrate.

Keyleth's jaw went slack for a moment, and she froze where she sat.

"Vex," she said, her voice flat. "She shot her through the eye. Cassandra fell. We threw her body in the acid pits with Lady Briarwood's."

Something deep in the back of Percy's head whispered, **_Vengeance. . . ._**

"I see," he said shortly. "Well. That's all _I_ needed to know. Thank you, Keyleth. For being _honest_ with me."

Keyleth blinked at him. "I—you're . . . welcome? Um . . . Percy, are you—"

"Oh, I'm _quite_ all right," he said. "Would you go and tell the others that I'm all right? I'm _sure_ they're concerned. You can tell them what a resounding _success_ their pig idea was."

"I'll . . . do that. Um. Percy, are you okay? Because you seem . . . really, _really_ not okay."

"Keyleth?" said Percy. _"Get. Out."_

"Okay!" Keyleth blurted, and shot to her feet, and fairly _sprinted_ out of his workshop. He heard the lock _shunk_ home behind her.

He counted to fifty, shivering with tension, his fingernails piercing the skin of his hands.

Then he let out a roar from the core of his being and flipped his worktable clean over, scattering metal and powder and tools. Then it was the tool rack, and then the pile of iron ingots, and then everything he could get his hands on, ripping the place to shreds—he nearly upended the barrel of black powder, too, stopping just short of blowing himself and his entire workshop directly to hell. His vision went red, his thoughts dissolved into a fizzing slurry, his body was filled with white fire. The sound of shattering wood was like thunder in his ears, the screech of metal on stone, the crack of breaking bones. Pain shot through his hand and he recoiled suddenly, snapped back to himself like a fly pinned to a wall by a thrown needle.

The workshop was in tatters around him. Everything was upended, everything broken in pieces on the floor. The furnace was roaring. There were scratches on the walls, deep grooves clawed into the stone, and there was dust under his fingernails.

Percy stood there shaking, gasping for breath he didn't need. Slowly, he looked down at his left hand, where the first finger was bent back at an unnatural angle, radiating pale blue pain like ice into his veins. Before his knees could give out underneath him, he sat down, staring at the broken digit as though it was the only thing in the world.

Cassandra was dead. It seemed impossible, a discarded theory that couldn't be returned to. Cassandra had been dead before, but he'd seen her with his own eyes, held her, scoffed at her frustratingly headstrong nature. Watched her take up her mother's armor, watched her nearly smile. Watched her sudden and terrible betrayal, but that hadn't been her, _couldn't_ have been her, had only been the Briarwoods' horrible mind-games again, compounded by that horrible _thing_ scrawling her name on Pepperbox—

_Pepperbox._

Percy started up again like a wind-up toy set on a table. He rooted through the ruins of the workshop, single-minded, hardly noticing the splinters that pricked his hands, the jagged metal edges that tore oozing ruts into his flesh. He found the weapon, intact underneath the upturned worktable. Hands shaking, he turned the barrels, his ears ringing with the absence of his own heartbeat. There were two names— _two—_ inscribed there.

_Anna Ripley_

_Vex'ahlia Vessar_

Percy stared at Pepperbox for a long, long time, stunned, uncomprehending.

"No," he said slowly, through numb lips. "No."

In the back of his mind, something whispered, **_Yes._**

 _"No,"_ he repeated. "This is—this is _stupid._ You would have had me kill Cassandra, and now— _now_ you're telling me to avenge her death? This is lunacy, this is madness!"

There was a low chuckle like a distant landslide.

 ** _I do not choose who lives and who dies,_** the low voice said. **_I merely inscribe the names._**

"Then who _does_ choose?" Percy demanded. There was a lump in his throat, choking him. "Who chooses? Who do I tell to get _rid_ of this?"

Again, the low and rumbling laugh.

**_You choose._ **

"I did not choose this," he said, his voice shaking. "I did _not_ choose this!"

 ** _Look around you, Percival,_** the voice said. **_Tell me you have not chosen the path of violence. Tell me you do not seek  v e n g e a n c e._**

"This was a—a tantrum! This is nothing, this means—nothing!"

**_She murdered your sister. In cold blood, Percival. Shot through the eye. Such a shot, hm? Such a shot to watch the light leave her. Was she frightened, Percival? Did your sister beg for her life, or was she too proud?_ **

"Shut up," Percy hissed. "Shut up, shut up!"

 ** _You choose, Percival,_ ** the voice repeated, fading, fading. **_You  c h o s e._**

Percy sat there, staring at the weapon in his hand, tears rolling down his face.

Slowly, his hand clenched.


	4. Chapter 4

Scanlan hopped up into the chair next to Vax and started kicking his feet.

"So," he said. "When are we leaving?"

Vax finished his mouthful of eggs and looked at Scanlan sidelong.

"Leaving for where?" he asked.

"Vasselheim?" said Scanlan, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Of course?"

Frowning, Vax pointed his fork at Scanlan. "Sorry, have we actually had this conversation before, or are you just being Scanlan?"

"Oh, I'm probably just being Scanlan," said Scanlan. "Seriously. When are we leaving? Today? Tomorrow at the latest. I thought Keyleth could do her tree thing that got us back from Whitestone. Have you seen her?"

"Briefly," said Vax. "She was just coming in from watching the sunrise when I got up. I think she's out in the garden now."

"Great!" said Scanlan. He hopped back out of the chair.

"Wait, wait wait wait," said Vax, reaching out and catching him by the collar. _"Why_ are we going to Vasselheim?"

"To find Pike," said Scanlan. "Duh."

"Scanlan—"

"It's been three _weeks_ , Vax! Not a letter, not an astral projection, not a peep! And— _and!_ I scried my poo last night, and it's _gone._ So I have _no_ idea what's happening to her, and neither does anybody else, and I don't like it! So we're going to Vasselheim to find her, because I can't very well marry her if she's dead."

Vax watched him for a moment, taking in the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the bags underneath, the tightness at the corners of his mouth. Slowly, he nodded, and let go of him.

"All right," he said. "So we're going to Vasselheim."

"Great," said Scanlan. "We should leave Percy with a pig so he doesn't go nuts and eat the staff while we're gone."

"No," said Vax, "no. We're not leaving him here. If something _has_ happened to Pike, we're going to need all hands on deck."

"Not if they're _vampire_ hands!" said Scanlan. "Besides, he can't go outside right now because it's _sunny._ And I'm not waiting until nightfall to leave because of _him._ So he stays! Super simple, you don't have to make this complicated, at all, really. Now I'm going to go find Keyleth, and you should tell your sister to go get another pig before we leave."

"What _is_ it with you?" Vax snapped, stabbing his fork down into his sausages. "What have you got against Percy? Why are you so dead fucking set on hating his guts when he hasn't done a _single_ thing to break our trust?"

"Oh, _I_ don't know," said Scanlan, rolling his eyes. "Maybe it's because he's a bloodsucking abomination from beyond the grave? That might have something to do with it."

"Scanlan—" Vax began, but the gnome had already walked away. "Gods dammit."

Vax finished his breakfast, glowering. No one else was in the dining room with him, so when he was done with his food he took his dishes into the kitchen, finding Laina there washing other dirty plates and silverware. He placed his own dishes into the sudsy sink, sliding right up next to her.

 _"Oh!"_ she cried, splashing dishwater everywhere as she started. "Good heavens, Master Vax, you scared the life out of me!"

"Sorry," he said, smiling sheepishly. "Didn't mean to sneak up on you." (He had.)

"Well. Ah, well, not to worry, I'm sure my poor heart will recover."

"You are a very hearty woman," said Vax. "Tell me, have you seen my sister this morning? I need to speak with her, but I don't want to go chasing all over just to find her."

"Ah? Hmm, well, no, I can't say I've seen her yet today. Have you checked her room, perhaps?"

"I have not, but I will do that presently. Thank you, Laina."

"Oh, it's my pleasure, sir, my pleasure," she said, and happily returned to washing her dishes.

Vax wrapped his cloak around himself and stalked up to Vex's room. The morning was chilly, the walls of the keep bleeding cold from the courtyard and the outside. He knocked sharply on her door, discontented.

After a moment, the door opened, and Vex stood before him, yawning, her hair a mess.

"Oh, _what?"_ she said, her voice drowsy.

"Can I come in?" he said, keeping his voice low. "We need to talk."

Vex sighed, rolling her eyes, and stood aside, letting him in. He slipped inside and she shut the door behind him.

"This had better be good," she said, folding her arms. She was still in her nightgown, and her bare foot tapped on the rug.

"Listen," said Vax. "Scanlan's got some stupid plan to run off to Vasselheim looking for Pike. Now, I'm all for running off to Vasselheim to find Pike, but what I'm _not_ here for is leaving Percy behind like he's saying we ought to do."

"Did you _really_ have to wake me up for this?" Vex asked.

"He wants to leave _right away,"_ said Vax. "If it hadn't been me, it would've been him, and I know who _I'd_ rather have waking me up."

"Meh," said Vex, shrugging. "You're about the same to me. What's all this about Percy, then?"

"Scanlan wants to leave him here whilst we go gallivanting across the countryside," said Vax. "I think that's a stupid idea, and I'm not leaving _anyone_ behind, especially not Percy."

"Oh, _especially_ not Percy, and why's that?" Vex asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because he's dangerous," said Vax.

"No disagreement there," said Vex. "I can't see how that's a point in his favor, though."

"What, you think we should _leave_ him here?"

"At this point, brother dear, I'm considering putting him back in the ground," Vex said flatly.

"What? _Why?"_

"Because, like you said, he's _dangerous,"_ said Vex. "I hate to say this, but I agree with Scanlan."

Vax growled, frustrated.

"Listen, who knows best how to deal with Percy? We do. And if it comes right down to it, we've got a much better chance of killing him without any of us dying. If he _does_ lose it, wouldn't you rather he lose it on us than on Jarett and Shane and—Gods forbid—Laina or Erwin? If he's really as dangerous as you seem to think he is—"

"I don't _think_ he's dangerous, Vax, I _know,"_ Vex interrupted. "We've seen what vampires can do, we've seen the kind of horrible things—"

"Yes! We have! All the more reason to keep him with _us,_ because _we_ know how to deal with it!"

"Do we, Vax? Do _you?_ Because I seem to remember more than one occasion where your _dealing_ _with_ vampires consisted mainly of you being _mind-controlled_ by them."

"Oh, come on, sis, Percy's not going to mind-control me, why would he?"

"You know, I could think of a couple reasons. Shall I tell you?"

"No."

"Because you're full of blood and he's a _vampire."_

"He's _Percy!"_

"Not anymore he's not!" Vex snapped, and there was unaccustomed venom in her voice. "I _felt_ him try to put the whammy on me, Vax. I _felt_ him do it, it was like fingers in my brain. He wanted to suck me dry and he wanted me to roll over and take it. Now you tell me honestly: is that something Percy— _our_ Percy—would _ever_ do? _Is_ it, Vax?"

Vax stared at her for a second and then pushed past her out the door, stalking away. Vex stamped her foot and followed him into the hallway, letting out a frustrated growl.

"You can't keep walking away from this, brother!" she called.

"Watch me," he retorted. With barely any effort, he slipped into the shadows of the hall and was gone from her sight. He could hear her still cursing behind him.

* * *

 

The workshop door clanged under his knuckles.

"Percy?" he called. "Can I come in, please? We've got some things to discuss."

There was a scuffling noise, as of things being hastily rearranged.

"No—no, not just now, sorry, I'm . . . sort of in the middle of something!"

Vax narrowed his eyes. "Percy?" he said. "Is everything all right in there?"

"Yes—fine—perfectly fine, don't come in!"

"I'm sorry, but that doesn't _sound_ fine."

"Well, it is! Now go away. Come back in a few hours. Maybe tomorrow. Yes, I—I think tomorrow would work much better. Thank you, goodbye."

After a moment's consideration, Vax unlocked the workshop door and stepped in.

Percy fairly _teleported_ from the workbench to the dark corner by the furnace, a motion so fast Vax could barely follow it. The workshop looked like a tornado had blown through—there were splinters of wood on the floor, bent tools leaned up against the furnace, hasty repairs made to the worktable that were just barely keeping it standing. There were claw marks on the walls. Vax stared around with his mouth open.

"Percival, what in the _hell_ happened in here?" he demanded.

"I _told_ you not to come in," Percy said, leveling a shaking finger at him. "I did _tell_ you, Vax."

"What _is_ all this? What have you _done?"_

"It's—nothing, it's nothing, just a tantrum, I . . . had a bit of a hangup and I'm afraid I—rather lost my temper. It's only furniture, I haven't _hurt_ anything."

"Well, not by a very wide margin, I should think!" Vax said, staring around at the destruction. "A hangup? What sort of fucking hangup leads to this?"

"Listen, it's really not important—"

"It's pretty fucking important, Percival."

Percy stood there staring at him, his eyes gleaming in the dark. He took a long, slow breath and let it out again.

"Keyleth . . . told me about Cassandra," he said, and now his voice was shaking, too. "How she . . . died. How she was truly a . . . truly _with_ the Briarwoods. To say the least, I was . . . upset. But I'm over it now, and it's nothing to be concerned about."

"Are you?" said Vax. "Are you really over it?"

"Yes," Percy snapped. "As far as I'm concerned, my sister died five years ago. Did you want something or not?"

With his face in shadow like that, he was hard to read—but his tone seemed sincere, and Percy had been prone to certain outbursts in the past, especially concerning his family. Vax took a moment to steady himself and then came the rest of the way into the workshop. He gestured to the bench in front of the newly reconstructed table.

"May I sit down?" he asked.

"You may," said Percy.

Vax sat down. He stared into the white-orange heart of the furnace, clenching his jaw.

"Scanlan wants to find Pike," he said. "And I do, too, we all do. There's no argument about that part. The issue is . . . well, some people—some of _us—_ don't want you to come with us. I don't know how many, but . . . Scanlan and Vex, at least, I don't know about Grog and Keyleth. I haven't asked yet."

There was a beat of silence.

"I see," said Percy, his voice clipped.

"I'm not among them," Vax said, lacing his hands together and leaning his elbows on his knees. "I think we're much better off with you and you're much better off with us. Besides, she's as much your friend as ours, and I think you deserve to have a hand in getting her back, if anything's happened to her."

"That's very kind of you," said Percy, still in that stiffly formal voice, "thank you."

"I wouldn't thank me, the main reason I want you with us is so you don't go native on our staff," said Vax.

Again, there was a beat of silence, unnatural.

"That's . . . fair," said Percy. "And I understand."

Vax hung his head and sighed. "Percy, I _want_ to believe that you're still you. I _want_ to believe that you can control this, that you can—power through. But after everything I've seen of you, even when it was just that—other thing, that thing with the smoke, whatever the fuck _that_ business was . . . I'm not sure you can. I'm not sure you _want_ to. So tell me right now, Percival, and tell me true: _can I trust you?"_

For a long time, there was only the crackling of the furnace and the distant sounds of life above in the keep. Somewhere, Scanlan was yelling. It was a very distinctive sound.

As though his joints were filled with rust, Percy sat down on the bench next to Vax.

"Yes," said Percy. "You can trust me. You can trust me to try, and fail. You can trust me to succumb. You can trust me to fall to my baser instincts when I can no longer fight against them. You can trust me to hunger. But I promise you, Vax, you can also trust me to _tell_ you when these things are happening. You can trust me to ask for your help when I need it. I don't _want_ to be a monster, but I cannot defy my own nature. To do so would invite catastrophe. I want to come with you, I do, not because I feel I can be trusted but because I feel I _can't._ You can leave me here if you want, but I cannot guarantee that I won't become a worse problem than the one already on our hands. If you can—can _help_ me, can bear some of the responsibility for this . . . _curse,_ then maybe I could at least be _useful."_

Vax looked up at him. He was pale, but not sickly; shaking, but not abnormally so; mimicking Vax's posture, staring down at his own powder-blackened hands. He looked nervous, pained, ashamed. Vax reached out and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Any help I can be," he said, "I would be delighted to provide."

Percy looked up at him, his whole face lighting up. Vax held up a finger to cut him off before he could speak.

 _"But,"_ he said sternly. "You will not be putting any more mind-whammies on my sister, you understand? You will not so much as _attempt_ anything of the sort."

"I . . . haven't the foggiest what you're talking about," said Percy.

 _"She_ says you tried to fuck with her head," said Vax. "When she was down here being dinner for you."

"It . . . must have been involuntary," said Percy, blinking. "I'm sorry, I don't know what else to tell you. I'm not calling your sister a liar, of course, I'm certain she has good reason for saying what she did, but . . . honestly, Vax, I'm sure I attempted nothing of the sort."

"Hm," said Vax. Percy's face was open, honest, clearly shocked and distressed. Vax shook him gently by the shoulder, waggling him where he sat. "All the more reason to keep an eye on you, then."

They sat for a time, neither speaking, Vax's hand still heavy on Percy's shoulder. He removed it when the touch grew awkward, when Percy grew warm from the heat of his palm.

"How uh . . . how did that pig work out for you, then?" Vax asked, not wanting to leave but at a loss for what else to say.

Percy wrinkled his nose. A flash of fang showed under his curling lip.

"Eugh," he said. "Horrendous, but possibly liveable."

"That bad?"

"Imagine trying to live on nothing but raw potatoes."

"Eugh," said Vax, in solidarity. "What've you done with the leftovers?"

"Burned them," said Percy, gesturing to the furnace. "The smell helps offset the taste to some extent. Reminds me of when real food tasted like anything."

"Doesn't it?"

"Not a bit," said Percy. "Like eating charcoal."

"Well, that is _quite_ an unfortunate situation," said Vax. "But it seems to be holding you all right?"

Percy sighed. "So far," he said. "I can't say I would _mind_ a taste of something rather more . . . palatable, but I don't think I'm in any danger of . . . _going native,_ as you put it."

Vax nodded to himself, still thinking. "All right, another question, possibly stupid: will you be all right in Vasselheim? There's a lot of holiness there, and I know it affects people of your . . . _condition_ rather unfavorably."

"I haven't the foggiest," said Percy. "I suppose we'll have to find out. Unless you have some holy symbology on you at the moment, then we could experiment."

"I do enjoy a bit of experimentation," said Vax. "And I think I've got something here, hang on a second. . . ."

He rooted in his pockets until he found his gloves, one of which had the sigil of Sarenrae inscribed on the back. He held it up for Percy to look at, and Percy considered it.

"Well, I'm not in flames," said Percy, "so initial experiments are promising."

"No discomfort, no nothing?" Vax asked.

Percy reached up a finger and tapped the glove. "Nothing," he said. "Although I find it a bit tacky, aesthetically."

Vax snorted and stuffed his glove back in his pocket.

"All right," he said. "Last question, then I'll let you get back to whatever it is you do down here. Do you think you'll be all right out on the road?"

"I don't see why not," said Percy.

"Think you'll find enough to . . . eat? Out there?"

This time, Percy took a moment to answer. "If I don't," he said carefully, "would you be willing to . . . help?"

Vax froze, his back muscles tensing up to the point of pain. The twin scabs on his neck itched, and his skin tingled. He gulped, then cleared his throat.

"If it . . . came to it," he said. "If no other . . . resources were available. Then . . . yes. I would. But I don't know how the others would feel about it."

"Is it . . . absolutely necessary that they know?" Percy asked.

"Do you really think it could be kept secret?" Vax returned, raising his eyebrows at him.

"Possibly," said Percy. "You are _incredibly_ sneaky when you want to be."

Vax shrugged, pulling a face. "You're not wrong," he said. "But there's a difference between sneaking about and—and _sneaking about,_ you know?"

"Well, we'll just hope it doesn't come up," said Percy. "I have to admit, I'm looking forward to getting out of this workshop for a while. It _does_ get rather cramped, being cooped up in here all the time."

"I'll see what I can do about getting you out, then," said Vax. Slapping his hands down on his knees, he hoisted himself to his feet. "I'll let you know how it goes."

Percy rose as well, turning to face Vax. "Please do," he said. "I'd offer to help with convincing the others, but I'm not entirely sure that would actually be helpful."

Vax clapped him on the shoulder again, intending to say something—but no words came. Instead, he just nodded and patted Percy's shoulder.

Gently, Percy took his hand and kissed his knuckles.

"Best of luck," he said. "And thank you, Vax. I really do appreciate this."

Vax took his hand back, flushed and flustered.

"I—well, yes. You're welcome. I should—I'll just be—going. Now. Yes. Goodbye."

Percy smiled at him, showing no teeth, his eyes sparkling.

"Until later," he allowed.

Vax turned and hurried from the room without a further word, mostly because he couldn't find any to say.


	5. Chapter 5

Someone tapped Keyleth on the shoulder, and she nearly jumped right out of her skin. She whirled around with a shriek, summoning a spell into her hands, the skin of her neck prickling like it was beset by ants.

Scanlan, his hand still outstretched, shrieked too, leaping backwards with a comical flailing of limbs.

 _"Ugggh!"_ Keyleth groaned, hanging her head and dropping her hands. The swirls of light faded from her fingers, and a wash of warmth from the sudden surge of adrenaline bathed her limbs. "Don't _do_ that. I'm still so jumpy after all that— _that._ Gods."

"Sorry!" said Scanlan, who didn't sound it in the least. "I didn't know! From now on I won't walk up behind you, completely normally, and tap you on the shoulder like a normal person. I've been meaning to introduce myself every time I walk into a room anyway, now that Tiberius isn't here to fill that particular comedic niche."

Keyleth shook her head and wiped her hair out of her face. She smeared garden dirt on her forehead, but she couldn't be bothered to care.

"You don't—have to do that," she said. "At all. It's . . . fine. Really! Fine. Just—what did you want?"

"Oh, nothing much," said Scanlan, clasping his hands behind his back and leaning back on his heels. "I just wanted you to take us all to Vasselheim so we can find Pike, that's all. But if you're busy, it's fine, I wouldn't want to encroach on anything _important._ You know. More important than finding Pike who vanished off the face of the world three weeks ago. Which I'm sure there are plenty of things more important than that, I just can't seem to think of any right now."

"You don't have to convince me," said Keyleth. "I definitely think we should go find Pike! I mean, I'm sure she's okay, nothing _bad_ happened to her, just—maybe she just—lost reception? Of . . . letters? Something like that, probably. But we should visit anyway! So she can—you know, maybe it'll be easier to do something for—for Percy. In Vasselheim."

Scanlan sucked in a breath through his teeth and winced. "Ooh, yeah, _about_ that. I really don't think we should take Percy with us."

"What? Why not?"

 _"Welll,_ mostly because he's a bloodsucking abomination from beyond the grave," said Scanlan, "but also because I feel like he really messes with our aesthetic, you know? He doesn't really fit with the spirit of the group. I don't know why the word _anachronism_ comes to mind, but it always seems to, isn't it weird?"

"Scanlan, we can't—I'm not going to just _leave_ Percy here."

"You know, it's funny, Vax said almost _exactly_ the same thing! So I'll enact the definition of insanity and repeat the same experiment while expecting different results! _Why not?"_

"Because he's our _friend!"_ said Keyleth. "Because he's—he _needs_ us! And we need him!"

"No," said Scanlan, smiling tautly. "No, we really don't. Sure, he's good in a fight, and yes, I guess _technically_ he has a castle now—isn't it funny how that works out? As soon as he's a vampire he has a castle to go live in. Amazing. _Anyway._ What I'm _saying_ is, we _don't_ need him, and we shouldn't take him because he'll eat us in our sleep."

"Percy is _not_ going to—to eat us. Any of us. Especially not while we're sleeping!"

"Really? Are you _really_ sure about that? Because _I_ wasn't sure he wasn't going to eat us in our sleep even _before_ he was a vampire. Did you ever get that? Maybe it's just my gnomish senses at work."

Keyleth drew herself up, puffing out her chest and lifting her chin.

"Either Percy—either Percy goes, or you can . . . find your own way to Vasselheim," she declared, her voice squeaking.

Scanlan leveled a glare at her and folded his arms. "Really, Keyleth? _Really?_ This is to find Pike! You know, Pike, our _friend,_ who we all _love and adore_ because she's the most sublime creature ever placed on this earth? I love her most of all, of course, I wouldn't expect you to understand, but _come on!_ We're going to find _Pike!_ You can't just stay home, you're our ticket there and back!"

"If Percy's not going," said Keyleth, "neither am I."

Scanlan's jaw clenched, and his eyes went hard and dark. "You know what you are, princess?" he said. "Selfish. Totally, completely selfish. You'd rather get us _all_ killed, _or_ leave Pike in danger for _weeks_ more, than suck it up—no pun intended, I _assure_ you—and admit that _we_ have a _vampire_ living in our basement who is going to kill us all! Are you proud of that? Is that the kind of leadership you want to employ? _Selfishness?"_

Tears stung at her eyes, and the words wrapped around her heart like thorny vines.

"I—I'm not . . . being selfish," she said. "I'm looking out for our friends!"

"You're looking out for _one_ of _your_ friends," said Scanlan. "And he's not even your friend anymore! He's not Percy anymore! I don't know why you're all acting like he's still Percy just because he _looks_ the same! It's incredible!"

"He _is Percy,"_ Keyleth retorted. "And I'm _not_ just looking out for him, I'm—I'm trying to keep us all together! If we split up, if we start—start breaking up into . . . factions, and groups, and cliques, or _whatever,_ we're going to rip apart! There's not going to be anything left of Vox Machina, we'll just—float away on the breeze, just six stupid people with our stupid lives doing— _nothing!_ It already happened once, we already lost Tiberius, I don't want—I don't want to lose anybody else!"

 _"Too bad!"_ Scanlan snapped, and his voice cracked like a whip, ringing out across the courtyard. "Because _guess what,_ Percy's _gone!_ And if you don't get your princess ass in gear, so will Pike! Be . . . gone. Shut up!"

Keyleth took a deep breath, trying to find her center amidst the stinging pain of the words. She blinked the tears from her eyes and looked at Scanlan, really _looked_ at him, and saw the fraying strain of him, the wound-tightness, the raw skin underneath the flashy exterior. She softened, reached out and touched his shoulder.

"I know you're scared for her," she said gently. "I am, too. And we're going to find her, Scanlan. She'll be okay. But I _really_ think it's a bad idea for us to split up. I know you don't trust Percy, and . . . really I don't either, but—but I _have_ to believe it's still him. That he can still be saved. Isn't that—isn't that what Pike would say? That there's always room for second chances? We need Pike back, I know. _You_ need Pike back. But I think if we do this . . . _right,_ we can also get Percy back. We don't have to lose anyone else. Not for good. And isn't that . . . better? Isn't that _right?"_

Scanlan's eyes roved her face for a moment, bright with tears that he was fighting not to shed. At last, he sighed, hanging his head and shrugging helplessly.

"Fine," he said. "You're right. It's what Pike would want, and I . . . wouldn't want to face her if I did anything differently. I still think I'm _right,_ and we're all going to wind up pale and fangy, but—I have no choice. Fine. We'll take Percy with us."

Keyleth leaned forward and kissed his forehead.

"Thank you, Scanlan," she said. "We can leave tonight. It'll take me a little while to get the spell ready, but I think everybody else probably has . . . things. To do. Before we go. Supplies and stuff. Yeah."

"I'll . . . let everybody know what the plan is," said Scanlan. "I'm sure Vax will be happy to hear it." He paused, a sly look coming over his face. "Do you know if—"

"No," said Keyleth, leaning back and waving a hand. "Nuh-uh, no, not talking about it."

"Oh, but I _really_ wanna know!" Scanlan wheedled. "Is it a _thing?_ You'd know, right? You and Vax are _kind_ of a thing. You'd know!"

"I don't know _anything,"_ said Keyleth, although there was something heavy hanging on her heart that had a pretty good suspicion.

"Suuuuure you don't," said Scanlan. "You've got—you've got something on your face, _ohhhh,_ I think it's just a little smear of _jealousy."_

"I'm not—jealous!" she objected. "Vax is—Vax is very nice, and I—and we—it's been . . . interesting, but—it's better! If he doesn't. Have . . . feelings. For me. Much better."

"Aww," said Scanlan, and patted her on the arm. "I'm sorry. Hey, you know what makes _me_ feel better when I've been jilted by someone who professed their love for me just a few weeks ago? Whores and booze. I think we could find those in Vasselheim, you know, once we've found Pike. Do you want to come with me and Grog next time we go out whoring?"

"Uh, nnnno," said Keyleth, her nose wrinkling. "I think I'll . . . be okay. But—but thank you for the . . . invitation, I guess."

"Eh," said Scanlan, shrugging. "To each their own. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some preparation to do."

"So do I," said Keyleth, standing up and brushing the dirt off her hands. "Let's get everybody up here around sunset, maybe?"

"Works for me," said Scanlan. He hurried off without a further word.

Watching him go, Keyleth sighed.

"Poor little guy," she said.

* * *

 

"Vax?" Keyleth called through his door. "Are you in there? Just—we're about to leave, and—"

"Nope," said Vax, right behind her. "Not in there."

Keyleth screamed and jumped about a foot in the air, whirling where she stood. Vax was there, grinning. Percy was behind him, fiddling with Pepperbox.

"Oh, Gods," said Keyleth, pressing a hand to her chest. She reached out and slapped Vax on the arm. "Don't _scare_ me like that!"

"Sorry," said Vax. "I didn't mean to."

"He did," Percy said laconically. Vax glared at him, pouting.

"Don't pretend like you weren't sneaking, too, de Rolo," he said.

Percy's eyes flicked up to him, just for a moment, and he smirked.

"I've no idea what you're talking about," he said.

"Okay, well, great! Good, we're all here, and you've already got Percy, so—so let's get down to the courtyard and . . . I guess, just go to Vasselheim?" said Keyleth. Something about Percy was making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, but she couldn't quite place what it was. Ever so slightly, she drew closer to Vax.

"Yes, actually, I've been thinking about that," said Percy. "We can walk and talk, come on." He turned and started off down the hall, with one quick glance at Vax. The other two followed.

"Okay, so, thinking?" said Keyleth. Vax was walking close next to her, and she almost wished he would offer his arm so she could take it.

"Yes. Perhaps it's best if you drop me outside of Vasselheim and conduct your investigations inside without me. I'm sure plenty of the people there know a vampire when they see one, and I should hate to be staked through the heart right out of the gate."

"Oh, come on, Percy, nobody's going to try and kill you in broad daylight," said Vax.

"To the contrary, I think that's when people would be _most_ likely to try and kill me, considering the effectiveness of sunlight against vampires."

"I—I think he probably has a point, actually," said Keyleth. "I don't like splitting us up, but . . . maybe it's safer. For everyone."

"Safer?" said Vax. _"You've_ seen the sort of shit that goes crawling about outside of Vasselheim. I don't think that's _safer_ for anyone."

"Honestly I prefer hydras to mobs," said Percy. "They're easier to avoid, at any rate."

"Percival, we haven't gone to all the trouble of getting you to come along just so you can wait outside."

"Only for the time being, Vax. If Pike is easily found, it won't matter, and if she's vanished somewhere, I doubt she's still in the city. Even if she is, my being absent from the party for a single day isn't going to impede our progress _too_ much."

They reached the courtyard, where Vex, Grog, and Scanlan were all standing, chatting and stamping their feet against the cold. Trinket was leaning up against Vex, or Vex was leaning on Trinket—it was hard to tell. The sky above was a deep purple, streaked with thin black clouds like tatters of silk. The conversation died as the other three approached, and all eyes followed Percy, even Trinket's.

"Okay!" said Keyleth, stepping forward before anyone else could speak. "Are we all here? Everybody have everything they need? We're good on potions and stuff? I know those are . . . _kiiiinda_ hard to get in Vasselheim, so I just—I just want to double-check."

"I think we're good," said Vex.

"I got everythin' _I_ need," said Grog, patting Silas Briarwood's sword on his back.

"Do we think there's going to be fighting?" Scanlan asked, turning his head towards Grog but keeping his eyes on Percy.

"Ooh, I _hope_ so," said Grog, grinning. "I been itchin' for a fight for _days."_

"Worse comes to worst you can always go back to the Braving Grounds, darling, and see if anyone will challenge you," said Vex.

"Yeah," said Grog, "but . . . I sort of just wanna use the sword."

Vex shrugged. "Well, once we've found Pike, maybe we could pick up a contract from the Slayer's Take! We might as well make some money while we're in the area."

"Let's focus on that first part for now, yes?" said Scanlan, rubbing his hands together. "The _finding Pike_ part. Keyleth, can you get this tree open?"

"I—I can," said Keyleth. "But, sorry, do we know where we're going once we get there? What we're going to do, or . . . anything like that?"

"I think we should start at the temple of Sarenrae," said Vax. "If everything's fine, she's probably there, and if everything's _not_ fine, somebody there would most likely know where she went. It's at least a starting point."

"I think that sounds like a fantastic plan," said Percy. There was an unaccustomed beat of silence after his words, as though no one had expected him to speak. He raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I thought you were waiting outside?" said Vax.

"I am," said Percy.

"He is?" said Scanlan. "I mean, good! Of course he is. I _totally_ promise we won't forget him when we leave."

"Very funny, little man," said Vax.

"What? Maybe Trinket can stay with him. In Vasselheim. Forever! Lovely place, I'm sure it'll suit them both."

Vex slapped Scanlan on the shoulder. He recoiled, clutching the injury as though it was grievous.

 _"Owww!"_ he whined. "I wasn't _serious!_ Don't get your panties in a twist."

"The only panties getting twisted are yours," said Vex. "When I give you a thermonuclear wedgie for being horrible to Trinket."

"I've _never_ been horrible to Trinket!" Scanlan objected. "Cold forests are his natural habitat, he'd be happier there!"

"Oh, no he wouldn't," said Vex, wrapping her arms around Trinket's neck and nuzzling his cheek. "Wouldn't you, Trinket? You'd miss me _so much,_ and I'd miss you."

 _Mwoar, rwoaw,_ said Trinket, mashing Vex's face with his head.

"See, he agrees," said Vex. Scanlan threw his hands up in the air.

"Fine, fine, can we just go? We should go."

"Keyleth?" Vax prompted. He stood to one side and presented the tree to her.

"Right," she said, fidgeting. "Right, okay. Let's—do this!"

She stepped up to the tree and gathered herself, focusing on the spell. She pictured the destination in her mind—a huge, ancient fir just outside the walls of Vasselheim, which she'd noted for its antiquity as they'd been on their way out to find and kill the hydra. She placed her palms on the tree and the pathway opened, a short corridor with walls of liquid bark. The others dashed through, first Vax, then Percy, then the rest, and Keyleth followed on their heels. The doorway closed behind her with a sound like the last of the bathwater running down the drain, and the cold sank teeth into every exposed inch of her skin.

There was little snow on the ground, here under the trees, but the boughs above were heavy with it, sagging deeply. The air was so cold it stung her sinuses and brought tears prickling to her eyes. She looked around at the others, breath fogging in front of their faces, hugging themselves and shivering.

All except Percy, for whom there was no fog of breath, and who stood as casually as if he were in his own workshop at home. He was pale as the snow, his eyes grey as the steel-lace sky above. The sun had not set here yet, but the clouds were so thick that it was impossible to tell where it was in the sky.

 _"Fuck_ it's cold," Vax spat, shuffling over to Trinket. He pressed his face into the bear's flank, leaning his whole body against its leg.

"Is it?" said Percy, examining his fingernails. "I hadn't noticed."

"When we come back and you're a corpsicle, you won't be laughing," Vax retorted.

"It could certainly prove difficult, depending on how thoroughly frozen I was," said Percy.

"How about we stop standing around and go find Pike?" Scanlan said. "How's that? Have fun, Percy, eat Trinket first."

 _"Oy!"_ Vex exclaimed, glaring at Scanlan and pouting.

Percy grinned. It was an uncommon expression on him normally, and now, with the sharp white points amidst his teeth, it was less a thing of happiness and more of threat. Keyleth took a step away from him, a different cold eating into her bones.

"I don't imagine Vex would ever forgive me if anything happened to Trinket," he said. "I wouldn't like to take my chances."

"Damn right you wouldn't," said Vex, hugging Trinket around the neck. "Nobody eats Trinket. Trinket eats people, _isn't that right my fuzzy widdle buddy boy—"_

 _Morrrmg,_ said Trinket.

"We . . . should . . . get going," said Keyleth, glancing around at the group. "The sooner we can find Pike, the better for everyone. Right? Okay! Let's—let's go. Go team! We'll um . . . we'll see you soon, Percy. You—do you have an earring? Do you want one?"

"I've got one," said Percy, pinching his right ear. "Call me if you need anything. Bad News could probably hit quite a fair sweep of the city if I manage to get far enough up in a tree."

"Yeah?" said Keyleth. "Great! That's great. We'll hope we don't, um, need you to do that. Okay! Great, let's get going. Is—is Trinket actually . . . staying here?"

"No!" said Vex. "Of course not, why would he?"

"Because he's a bear?" said Scanlan. "Sorry, I just don't feel like we _need_ a bear right now, really."

"Well I'm not leaving him with _Percy,"_ said Vex.

For a moment, everything went still.

"And why is that?" Percy asked, his voice soft as the hiss of the falling snow.

"You know why, darling."

"Perhaps I'd like to hear you say it out loud," said Percy, absolutely still, right down to his eyes.

Vex sighed, rolling her eyes. "Look, it's not that I don't _trust_ you—"

"It's exactly that," Percy interrupted, his tone unchanged.

"Look, Percival, I don't know what you think you're playing at—" Vax began, advancing on him.

"Shut up," Percy said politely. Vax gaped at him for a moment, and then his mouth snapped shut.

 _"Oy,"_ said Vex. "Don't you tell my brother to shut up. Only _I_ get to tell my brother to shut up."

"If any of this is going to work in the long term, Vex'ahlia, I think it's important that we're all honest with one another," said Percy, fixing her with his gaze. "Don't you?"

"Uhh," Grog said, leaning down to Scanlan. "What the fuck is goin' on right now?"

"I don't know, but I _wish_ I had some popcorn," said Scanlan, rapt.

 _"Honest?"_ Vex said, folding her arms and arching an eyebrow. "All right, Percy, here's _honest:_ I _honestly_ have no idea why you're making a big deal out of this, and even if I _had_ trusted you before—which, in all _honesty,_ I _didn't—_ I certainly wouldn't _now._ Is that good enough for you? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Yes, actually," said Percy, rather brightly. "Thank you for that. Best of luck finding Pike. You know where to find me when you're done."

And with that, he gave the ancient fir an appraising look before leaping eight feet straight up to the lowest branch and hauling himself up. The branches rustled and snow fluttered down as he continued to scale the tree, his boots scraping against the freezing bark.

"What, um," said Keyleth. "What just . . . happened?"

"Remember how I told you all we should leave Percy behind?" said Scanlan. He pointed up into the tree. "That's why."

"I _can_ still hear you," Percy called down. Scanlan winced.

"Sorry!" he called back up, then muttered under his breath, _"Creepyyyy."_

Vax pinched Scanlan's ear and tugged on it. "Enough of that," he said. "Come on. Let's go find Pike."

And with that, the five of them—and Trinket—headed off towards the looming walls of Vasselheim.


	6. Chapter 6

The temple to Sarenrae was only slightly less decrepit than the last time Vax had seen it. There were doors, now, although they were little more than nailed-together planks of wood, and the roof was noticeably more complete. He hesitated at the door, one fist raised to knock, and glanced back at the rest of the party.

"Maybe it's best if . . . somebody else goes first," he said. "Scanlan?"

"Yes, thank you, thank you," said Scanlan, elbowing his way between Vex and Keyleth. "It's not that I don't trust the rest of you to talk, it's just that every time you open your mouths, _really stupid stuff_ falls out."

"Scanlan," Vex warned.

He shrugged. "Hey, I calls 'em like I sees 'em. Ahem."

With that, he turned to the door and knocked sharply, three times. After a moment's pause, someone inside called, _"Comin'! Comin', just a moment!"_

The door swung open a crack, and a ruddy face peered out at them.

"Can I 'elp you?" the face asked, looking up at Vax. Vax pointed down at Scanlan, who had folded his arms.

"Yes, actually, you can," said Scanlan. "May we come in?"

"Oaw, well, I dunno—" said the ruddy face, its eyes darting.

"We're friends of Pike's," said Scanlan.

The eyes went wide, and jowls quivered.

"Oh! Oh, yes, yessir, right away!"

The door swung open, revealing a short human, portly, with long white hair and long white robes.

"Come in, come in," they said, ushering Vox Machina inside. Scanlan entered quickly, and the others followed. Grog had to duck under the doorframe, and Vex had to pause a moment to open the other door so Trinket could fit through.

Inside, the renovations to the temple were more prominent. The floors had been cleared of rubble, patches of the walls scrubbed clean of their grime. Light was filtering in through some of the windows, leaving lacy patterns on the floor. It was still barren, and there was clearly much more to be done, but it did at least look something like a temple now.

"We've not seen our Pike in well on a week now," the portly cleric said, wringing their hands. "'Ave you got news of 'er, then? Oh, tell us you've got news, we've been worried 'alf to death."

Vax looked back at his sister, who had gone pale and stony. Grog bowed his head, clear distress wrinkling his face. Scanlan was staring up at the cleric, his jaw tight. Trinket went _mrowh._

"No," said Vax, his stomach curling up inside him. "We were hoping you had. We haven't heard from her in almost three weeks, and we were getting worried, which is why we're here."

"Oh, dear, oh, dear," said the cleric, shaking their head. "Narsty business, this. Care for some tea? Oh, but I can't 'alf deal with anythin' when I've not got a cuppa tea in me."

"No, we do _not_ want any tea," Scanlan snapped. "When did you last see Pike? Where was she going? Who was she talking to? Anyone?"

The cleric stepped back, brows raising to wrinkle up their forehead.

"All right, all right, easy there young marster, lord knows I'm eager to find our Pike, too."

"Clearly not eager enough!" Scanlan retorted. "Listen, you can answer the questions and _help_ us, or we can leave and find somebody else who knows more. _Capiche?"_

Blinking, the cleric said, "Well, err, our young Pike, she were rather upset, last time I sawr 'er. Goin' on about some doctor or sommat. Didn't 'alf know what she was sayin', sounded like she was speakin' in tongues."

"Doctor?" said Vex, glancing over at Vax with a glimmer of fear in her eyes. "Did she happen to say what this doctor's _name_ was, perhaps?"

"Oh, I couldn't tell you, memory like a sieve, I 'ave. Seems it started with an _R,_ or maybe an _L._ Coulda been a _D,_ come to think of it."

"Was it _Ripley?"_ Scanlan asked. His fists had clenched at his sides.

"Oh, _yes!_ That was it! _Ripley,_ sure as sunshine. You know 'im?"

"Her," said Vex.

"We know her all right," Grog rumbled. His hand found the hilt of Silas Briarwood's sword and squeezed until his knuckles creaked. "We know _all about_ her."

The cleric's piggy eyes darted. "Err, you wouldn't be on . . . friendly terms with 'er, then?"

"Oh no no," said Vax, something red-hot coiling around his insides. "We're _very_ good friends with Dr. Ripley. In fact, we've been meaning to catch up with her for _quite_ some time now. I'm sure Percival will be _delighted_ to know that she's here."

The cleric looked unconvinced. "Right?" they said. Despite the chill, they were sweating.

"In fact," Vax went on, "why don't I go tell him now?"

"Vax," Keyleth hissed, as he started away. He paid her no mind, slipping off to a deserted corner of the temple and dipping into a shadow.

"Percival," he whispered, pinching the earring between his thumb and forefinger.

_"Have you found something?"_ Percy asked, his voice tinny with distance.

"More than something. Ripley's been here, talking to Pike."

For a moment, there was silence.

_"How fortunate,"_ Percy said, his voice as dark and rich as chocolate. _"It looks as though our loose ends are tying each other up."_

"I'm not sure I would go so far as to say _fortunate,_ Percival," Vax said, ignoring the shiver that ran up his spine. "We've no idea what's happening to Pike, and I'm not sure I want to find out. After everything you've told us about what Ripley did to _you—"_

_"I doubt Pike is experiencing anything even vaguely resembling what I did,"_ Percy said, his voice gone flat and formal. _"Anna is not stupid. She knows she has a bargaining chip, and she would be loath to damage it in any way. I think Pike is safe, for now."_ He hesitated. _"Depending, of course, on what Anna actually_ _wants._ _"_

"Don't talk in riddles, Percy," Vax warned. He glanced at the others, still talking to the cleric. Scanlan was shaking a threatening finger at them, his whole body rigid with rage. "If anything's happened to Pike, you're going to have some competition for Ripley's life. I'd prefer to know in advance what to expect."

_"Well,"_ Percy began, and then sighed. _"Well. If her aim is to . . . perhaps ransom something from us, it's unlikely she'll have harmed Pike. If, on the other hand, she's simply attempting to cause us pain. . . ."_

"And which of those do you think is more likely?"

Again, he hesitated. _"I couldn't say,"_ he said. _"But seeing as we haven't received any demands, or in fact any communication at all—well, it's difficult to say. I'm not an expert on Anna's motivations, other than that there must be something in this for her."_

"Is it possible that this is a coincidence?" Vax asked. The cleric had walked away, and the others were looking around for him. He pulled a little further into the shadow. They could hear every word he said, of course, but that didn't mean they had to look at him.

_"What, that Pike's had communication with Anna and nothing came of it? That she's now missing for totally unrelated reasons? I'd say it's unlikely."_

"Vax?" Keyleth called, turning her head this way and that. "We—we found a place to start! Looking, I mean, for Pike. If you . . . want to come with us?"

_"The sun's gone down,"_ Percy said. _"I could help you look."_

Vax saw Vex stiffen, saw Scanlan raise a hand to his ear with a deep scowl on his face. Grog was scratching at the floor with the tip of his sword, tongue between his teeth. Keyleth's eyes were darting, her smile frozen and forced.

"I'll come get you," said Vax, slipping towards the door.

"Brother," Vex warned, scowling about, her eyes darting.

"Um, maybe—maybe we should all go?" Keyleth said.

"Bye," Vax murmured, slipping out the door.

_"Brother, I swear to whatever god you choose,"_ Vex said in his ear.

"I'll be fine, sister dear," Vax said. "There's no point in all of us wandering about looking suspicious. Why don't you all find somewhere for us to sleep tonight?"

_"Their paranoia is somewhat endearing,"_ said Percy.

_"You be quiet,"_ Vex snapped. _"I'm coming too, whether you like it or not. I remember where we left him, it's not like you're just going to_ _vanish_ _out in the woods and_ _nobody's_ _going to know where you went."_

"Well, then you can come find me if I'm late," said Vax.

_"_ _Would it help if I promised to be very good_ _?"_ Percy inquired.

_"You insufferable little man,"_ Vex said. _"I'm going with you whether you like it or not, brother."_

_"Hm,"_ said Percy. _"I wonder. What happens if you get here first?"_

There was a beat of silence. Vax slipped down a back alley and melted into a quiet crowd.

_"I don't know, Percival,"_ Vex said, her voice tight. _"What_ _does_ _happen if I get there first?"_

_"I imagine it will be exceedingly awkward,"_ he said.

_"Hey,"_ Scanlan cut in. _"Why don't you all have your weird dick-measuring contests where_ _I_ _don't have to listen to them._ _Generally I'm all for dick-measuring contests, but in this case, it's just annoying._ _Okay? Great, thanks, bye."_

_"Fine,"_ said Vex. _"I'll see you in a few minutes, brother dear."_

"Vex'ahlia, I know you don't trust Percival, but now I'm starting to feel that you don't trust _me,"_ said Vax. The walls were in sight, now, snow-capped and torchlit, the wild trees looming dark beyond them.

_"I don't,"_ Vex said flatly. _"See you in a few minutes."_

_"Ooh, ouch,"_ said Scanlan. Vax took his earring out and stuffed it in his pocket.

* * *

 

Percy was waiting for him just outside the gate, his skin blue, his hair rimed with frost. He was leaned up against a tree, arms folded, eyes glittering. Bad News was slung across his back, its metal gleaming in the faint torchlight.

"Not a corpsicle yet, Percival?" Vax inquired, halting a few feet away from him and looking him up and down.

"Not for lack of trying," said Percy. "I thought it might be amusing if you had to carry me back, frozen solid. I'm sure someone in Vasselheim would pay a pretty penny for yard art like me."

"And he's modest, too," said Vax.

Percy grinned. A shiver ran up Vax's spine. "Just one of my many charming traits."

"Right," said Vax, discomfited. "Right, well. I suppose we'd best be getting back before my sister shows up to burn us both at the stake."

"Yes," said Percy, going grim. "Listen, Vax, about your sister. While we have a moment to ourselves."

Vax's whole body went tense. His hand strayed to the dagger at his belt.

"What about her?" he asked.

"I think—I think it's best if I'm not left alone with her at any point," he said. "I get the feeling she's none too fond of me, and I should hate to wake up one morning with a stake through my heart."

"Vex'ahlia wouldn't—"

Percy raised an eyebrow at him, and Vax's voice died in his throat.

"I'm fairly confident she would," Percy said. "You've heard the way she talks to me. _About_ me. One tiny slip up and she'll have my head on a platter."

"You're not exactly helping matters," said Vax. "You provoke her."

"I _mock_ her," said Percy. "It's an entirely different thing."

"You know, Percival, I'm not quite sure she appreciates the difference, so maybe you should _lay off."_

"So if she decides to kill me, it's _my_ fault, is that it?"

"No!" said Vax. "That's not what I said, and you know it."

Percy drew breath, then paused. He let the breath out slowly, eyes closed.

"You're right, of course," he said. "I'm afraid I'm a bit . . . irritable at the moment. Something about the cold, or—all the holiness about. It's affecting me more than I thought it would, and . . . well, to be perfectly honest with you, it makes me hungry, and being hungry makes me . . . unpleasant."

The cold was eating through Vax's clothes. He shivered, glanced back over his shoulder at the gate. Surely Vex'ahlia would be here soon. He hadn't been moving _that_ quickly.

"But you're all right?" Vax asked. "Not having any issues with . . . you know, control? Of any sort?"

"Oh, yes, of course," said Percy, dismissive. "For the time being, at least. I fear I may need a—a _topping up_ sooner than anticipated, but . . . for the moment, it's simply aggravating, nothing more than that."

Vax glanced over his shoulder again. It was quite dark out, here under the trees where the torchlight from the walls was faint and pale and the white snow was thin on the ground.

"Right," he said. "Good. Well. Good."

"Vax," Percy said softly. Something in his voice took Vax's jaw like a gloved hand and turned his head about. Percy was watching him closely, pale as the snow, his eyes dark and depthless.

"Y-yes?" Vax managed.

"When the time comes," Percy said. "Are you willing?"

Vax had to swallow three times before he could get his voice to come out. He was suddenly acutely aware of how _alone_ they were out here, how secret and unseen.

"Of course," he said. His voice squeaked, so he cleared his throat. "Yes, I—I think our arrangement still stands. If it's necessary, then . . . yes."

Percy smiled, and there was such genuine warmth in the expression that it was like standing next to a hearth, like coming in from the cold.

"Thank you, Vax," Percy said. "It means a great deal to me. Especially in light of recent events. I promise you won't regret it."

Vax was about to reply when he heard the sound of the gate opening, and footsteps crunching in the snow. Percy took his eyes off him, and the cold came rushing back, biting with needle fangs. Vax turned around to see Vex approaching at a determined stalk, her hair flying like a banner behind her.

"And just _what_ have you two been up to out here?" she demanded.

"Talking, primarily," said Percy. "Thank God you've arrived, otherwise we might have moved on to walking, and that would have been entirely unacceptable."

"Oh, you're _hilarious,"_ Vex sneered. "Come on, the both of you. We've found an inn, although it took some convincing to get Scanlan _not_ to just rush off looking after Pike immediately, so you'd better be grateful and sleep like good little boys."

"I'm sure that took some doing," said Percy. "I'm impressed."

"Good for you," said Vex. "Let's get going, before we freeze to death."

"I'm not sure it's _that_ dire, sister dear," said Vax. "Technically, one of us is already dead, and he's not frozen."

Vex scowled. "I'm glad you find this so funny," she said. "This is all one big joke to you, isn't it."

"Not a bit!" said Vax. "I just think you're being a _tad_ bit horrendous."

"Oh, _horrendous,_ am I? For not wanting you to freeze to death?"

"That's not what I meant, Vex'ahlia. You could lighten up a _bit._ Percy hasn't hurt anyone—"

"Today," said Vex. She snatched Vax's hand and started towing him off towards the walls. "Now come on, your ears are turning blue."

Vax looked back at Percy and shrugged, pulling a face, allowing himself to be dragged. A warm room _did_ sound nice, and so did a good night's sleep.

Percy gave him another little smile and followed after, shaking his head.

* * *

 

Vax dreamed.

He was in Percy's workshop, the furnace roaring, the tools all shined and neatly arranged, the floors spotless. The walls were hatched with claw marks. He was standing in the center of the room. He couldn't see anyone, but he was not alone. He tried to turn his head and found he could not move.

"Percy?" he said, his voice coming out hoarse and trembling.

A pair of cold hands rested on his arms, holding him gently. Vax stiffened. A pair of lips pressed to his neck, and all the tension flowed out of him, leaving him woozy and breathless, his eyes trying to roll back in his head.

"Yes?" said Percy, his breath hot on Vax's neck.

"I don't—feel quite right," said Vax. There were tendrils of black smoke curling out of the furnace, and Vax could see that there was something inside, twisted and black, something nearly familiar in shape, if only he could make his eyes focus on it. . . .

Percy kissed his neck again, drew him close so that their bodies were flush. All Vax's breath sighed out of him and his knees went weak.

"I feel that's fixable," said Percy.

The smoke was thicker now, starting to fill the workshop, swirling at the ceiling and piling up like water in flood. The thing in the furnace had limbs, a body—clearly human, or at least humanoid, charred and twisted though it was.

"Percy," Vax said again, but his voice was thin and weak. The room was spinning, the smell of the smoke was cloying, thick and sweet. Percy kissed him again, lingering. "What's—what's in your—your furnace?"

"You're very good at being quiet, Vax," Percy said. "Why don't you use that skill, hm? I like you much better with your mouth _shut. . . ."_

A hand pressed over his mouth, and teeth sank into his neck, and his vision suddenly sharpened, growing keen to the smoke billowing up around him, the body in the furnace—

His sister's body—

Vax awoke with a hand over his mouth. He screamed into it and whipped out the knife under his pillow, striking out blindly.

Percy caught him by the wrist before he could come close to hitting anything. His eyes sparkled in the darkness.

"Vax," he hissed. "Calm down, it's me."

Vax stared up at him, heart pounding in his chest, his fingers clenched white-knuckled on the hilt of his dagger. Percy's hand was bruising his wrist, cold and hard as steel. For three heavy breaths, they remained thus, unmoving, before Percy took his hand off Vax's mouth.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing, Percival?" Vax whispered, his voice shaking.

"I didn't mean to startle you," said Percy. "I couldn't sleep, so I've been following our lead. I've found something."

"And it couldn't wait until morning?" Vax asked. On the other side of the little room, Grog was snoring loudly, so much so that whispering was probably unnecessary.

Percy frowned, as though this had not occurred to him.

"Oh," he said. "Yes, I—I suppose it _could,_ if you all intend to get a full night's sleep."

"I think that was the plan," said Vax.

"Terribly sorry," said Percy. "I'll just—wait, shall I? For morning."

"Do that," said Vax. "And Percival? Don't _ever_ wake me up like that again."

"I—I won't. Sorry."

"Thank you. Now let go of my hand and let me go back to sleep."

Percy released him, straightening up. He towered in the darkness, looming over Vax's bed, a silhouette in the moonlight.

"Sorry," he said again, and was gone.

Slowly, every movement flaking with rust, Vax lay back down, staring up at the ceiling, holding his dagger against his chest.

He did not sleep again that night.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not dead!

The tension at breakfast was palpable. They had all gathered in one of the rooms, so as not to draw attention to themselves downstairs. Everyone was trying to keep an eye on Percy without directly looking at him, while Percy himself seemed absorbed in the maintenance of his fingernails. The unspoken hostility was driving Keyleth up the wall.

"Okay!" she said, full of false brightness. "So—so where do we start today? Do we—do we just start asking around, or—"

"Percival has a lead," Vax said. "Apparently."

"Oh—oh? Oh, great, that's—that's great!"

 _"Does_ he, now?" Vex said, side-eying Vax mightily. "And where did he _get_ this supposed lead?"

There was a moment of silence.

"Per-Percy?" Keyleth prompted, wringing her hands.

"Hm?" said Percy, looking up and blinking owlishly. "Ah. Yes, yes, the lead." He sighed, stretching luxuriously. Vex's hand clenched on her fork.

"Do tell," she growled through gritted teeth.

"Well," said Percy, lacing his hands behind his head and crossing his legs at the ankles. "I went and had a chat with my old friend in town, you know, the one who sells black powder?"

"Not sure we've met him," Vax said.

"We're never _going_ to, now," Scanlan muttered to Grog.

"What—why not?" Grog rumbled back, frowning.

"Bec—I'll tell you later," Scanlan said, rolling his eyes.

"As it happens," Percy said, watching Scanlan with vague disinterest, "Anna had been by."

The table got very quiet. Scanlan was suddenly all business, sitting forward, intent on Percy.

"And?" he said. "Was Pike with her? Where did she go? When was she there?"

Percy held up a hand, smiling to himself and raising his eyebrows. "I'm getting to it. It was a week ago. Pike was _not_ with her, although she did apparently have a cart. She didn't say where she was going, but. . . ."

"But? But what?" Scanlan said, bringing a fist down on the table in impatience.

Percy shrugged. "I doubt she would have come all this way only to run back across the sea. It's likely she's holed up somewhere in or near town to work. Or, perhaps, to lay in wait."

"This doesn't make any sense," Vex said, shaking her head. "Why would she take Pike and not leave any sort of—of taunt, if she wanted us to come after her? And why would she take Pike at all, if she _didn't_ want us to come after her?"

"Has anybody considered," Vax said quietly, staring at his plate, "that maybe Pike went with her? Voluntarily?"

"No," Scanlan snapped, "because that's _stupid._ Why would Pike do that? Ripley's a horrid bi—"

"Watch it," Vex warned.

 _"Biiiiiig_ jerk," Scanlan said. He recovered admirably, launching right back into his tirade. "There's no _way_ Pike would—would what, what are you suggesting, that she _teamed up_ with Ripley? No, that's stupid."

"I'm not _saying_ she _teamed up_ with her," Vax retorted, glaring. "I'm just wondering if—I don't _know,_ if maybe we're reading too much into this. We've got _nothing,_ nothing to go on, nothing but our own stupid paranoia guiding us."

"My paranoia is _very intelligent!"_ Scanlan said.

"Right, okay, but," said Grog, his thoughts finally rumbling into motion like a wooden-geared machine that had to wind up all its inner workings before lurching forth. "But, if Pike's all right, right? Then why don't we just get on our little earrings and just, like, call? Like, wander about the city, right, 'cause they don't reach all that far, and just give it a little, _heyyy, Pike, it's me Grog, you there?_ Only all of _you_ won't say Grog, because you're not Grog, you'll say, like, your own names—"

"It still doesn't explain why we've not had a letter from her in three weeks," Vex cut in. "Something isn't right."

"Well, but—but Grog's idea wouldn't . . . _hurt,_ right?" Keyleth said, eyes darting. "I-I mean, I kind of hate to say it, but . . . it's . . . it's kind of a—a good idea. I mean, right? It couldn't hurt!"

Grog punched the air. "Aw _yessss._ I'm a genius, you can all call me _Professor_ Grog from now on, thank you, thank you."

"All right then, _Professor,_ what do we do if Ripley's got the earring and hears us coming?" Scanlan asked.

Grog frowned. "Uhhh, we fuckin' punch the shit out of her? Not that hard, huh, huh."

"She might shoot us before we get that close," Scanlan said.

Shrugging, Grog said, "So? It's just like a little mosquito bite, it don't hurt."

"As much as I hate to say it, Grog's idea is the best one we have," Percy said. He didn't sound concerned, just a bit annoyed.

"So what, we just wander about the city talking to ourselves?" Vax asked, scowling. There were bags under his eyes. He turned to Keyleth. "You said you got some sort of a lead out of that cleric, what did _he_ say to you?"

"Oh, um," Keyleth said. "Not much. Just—just that Pike had been, um, going to the—the Braving Grounds, a lot. For—for whatever reason, I guess. You—you know, when she wasn't doing Sarenrae stuff, I guess. That was just sort of where she . . . hung out! Yep. That's it, really."

"We thought maybe someone there would've seen where she went, or if someone took her," Vex said. "I think it's a better lead than wandering about talking into our earrings because she _might_ be able to answer back because she _might_ be in town and have gotten all buddy-buddy with Ripley."

"I never _said_ she was buddy-buddy with Ripley," Vax snapped. "I just—"

"Vax, dearest, perhaps it's best you let this one go," Percy said mildly.

Vax pulled up short, his mouth opening and closing. A flush rose to his cheeks, and something cold settled in Keyleth's stomach. She turned away, folding her arms and swallowing down her bitter disappointment.

 _"What_ did you just call him?" Vex demanded, her voice shrewish and harsh.

"Oh, let's not start this," Percy said. "I think starting in the Braving Grounds is a perfectly fine idea. I'll wait here, and the rest of you can go off and get started. I daresay I'll find _some_ way to occupy myself."

 _"Ohhh_ no" said Vex, wagging a finger at him. "No, I'm not leaving you alone again. Grog's going to stay with you this time, to make sure you stay _put."_

"Really, Vex'ahlia—"

"You went wandering off last night _Gods_ know where doing _Gods_ know what, and apparently had a little chat with my brother while you were at it," she interrupted. Vax hunched his shoulders, fidgeting.

"Yes," Percy replied levelly. "Although I think I've been perfectly transparent with my—comings and goings, and what I was doing while I was gone. I had a chat with the black powder merchant, who I knew had spoken to Anna before, and then I came back and, in my excitement over finding a more _recent_ and _concrete_ lead, may have woken your brother up with the happy news. Am I to be treated like a criminal for that?"

"In the middle of the night," Vex said, "you went to see this merchant of yours."

"Yes?" Percy guessed.

"And he was perfectly happy to receive you, was he? Taking questions, very pleasant?"

"He is a _very_ odd fellow," Percy said, raising his eyebrows. "If you knew him, it wouldn't surprise you one bit that he keeps odd hours."

"Well then!" Vex said, grinning and resting her chin on the back of her hand. "Maybe it's time we meet this remarkable fellow!"

"By all means," said Percy, waving a hand. "I can give you directions to his shop, if you like."

"Um, _okay,_ um," Keyleth put in, her voice quavering, her cheeks aching from maintaining her nervous smile. "Maybe we should—not. Do this. This _thing_ where you two—are really antagonistic towards each other, and we don't really get anything done, and it's _suuuuuper_ awkward for everybody, and—maybe we could just—go look for Pike! Like—like we said we were going to? Guys?"

"What she said," Scanlan said, cocking a thumb at Keyleth. "Bicker on your own time, I need to find my future wife."

Surreptitiously, Grog pinched his earlobe and whispered, "Pike? Oy, Pike, you there?"

"That's not going to _work,_ Grog," Vax sighed, rolling his eyes.

"You don't know," Grog said, scowling at him.

"I _do_ know, because you haven't got an earring," he replied.

"Oh," said Grog, his face falling. "Right. I—I knew that. Yep. _Totally_ knew that, all part of the plan, just—just uhh, gettin' into the spirit of the thing. Yeah."

"Anyway," Vex said, "Grog's staying here with Percy. The rest of us will go to the Braving Grounds and see if anyone's seen Pike."

Percy shrugged. "If you say so."

Pouting, Grog said, "Aww, why's it gotta be _me?_ You're going to like, the _one place_ in this stupid stuffy town I actually _like,_ you can't leave me with Bitey McFuck Face here."

"Thank you for that," Percy said dryly, inspecting his fingernails.

"Yes, but Grog darling," Vex said, putting on the _flirty_ voice that Keyleth could never quite get to work, batting her eyelashes. "You're the _only_ one strong enough and smart enough to keep Percy from doing anything stupid."

"Oh, yes, please _do_ leave me with the brilliant Professor Grog," Percy said. Vex glared at him, and he grinned. The expression was like snowfall against Keyleth's spine. "I'm sure we'll get along _marvelously."_

Vex scowled, then turned her head towards Grog, although she kept her eyes fixed on Percy.

"Do you know, Grog darling, I've had a change of heart," she said. "I think maybe you _should_ go to the Braving Grounds, and _I_ can stay here with darling Percy."

Percy's smile grew by a couple of teeth. His eyes were cold and grey and glittering.

"Oh, _please_ do," he said, and the bass of his voice made the table shiver. "How I should love to spend a day alone with you."

A long, thick silence fell over the table. Keyleth's darting eyes took in the whole party—Vax's shocked anger, Vex's wide eyes and clenched jaw, Scanlan's mistrustful glare, Grog's deep and uncertain frown.

"Um," she said, her voice thready and quavering. "Um, what if—what if, just like, I don't know, as like a—a sort of . . . _compromise,_ um . . . why don't—why don't _I_ stay here? With Percy. Um? I'm not—I'm not really much help with—with looking for people anyway, and—and, _you_ know, Vex is _really_ good at . . . that, so—so it's good! It's a good idea. For me. To stay here. With . . . Percy."

"That sounds lovely, Keyleth," Percy said, slipping back into himself as though he had never been amiss. "I think that's an admirable compromise."

Without warning, Vex stood up so quickly she knocked her chair over. She stalked from the room, her face pale and set in anger, her fists clenched at her sides. Percy watched her go, dispassionate and calm.

"Oh dear," he said mildly, "I do believe I've upset her."

"Watch it, de Rolo," Vax snapped, and hurried after his sister.

"This is going _great,"_ Scanlan remarked to Grog, scooting his chair back and hopping out of it. "Don't you think this is going great?"

"Uh . . . yeah?" Grog hazarded, scratching his beard. Scanlan shook his head and followed after the twins, and Grog, after a moment's hard consideration, followed him.

There was another viscous silence, while snowflakes crept up Keyleth's spine on frozen needle legs and her hands twined together in her lap.

"Um," she began. "Um, Percy?"

"Yes, Keyleth?" he said. He had taken out Pepperbox and was cleaning it meticulously, apparently absorbed in his work.

She steeled herself to ask one of the hundred frightened questions scurrying through her brain, then lost her nerve and sighed.

"N-nothing," she said.

"All right," said Percy. He spun Pepperbox's barrels, watching them roll around and around with a detached sort of interest.

"U-um," Keyleth said again. "Percy?"

He smiled, showing no teeth. "Yes, Keyleth?" he said, indulgent.

"What are you going to do? Um, when we—when we find Ripley, I mean."

"I'm going to kill her," Percy said, as though it was the simplest thing in the world.

"Oh," said Keyleth. "Right." She squirmed, not wanting to ask the follow-up question, but feeling she _had_ to, or it would eat her up.

"Was there something else?" Percy inquired. He'd taken a cloth from one of his multitudinous pockets and was cleaning all the moving parts of Pepperbox.

"Just—well, it's sort of . . . stupid, it's a stupid question—"

"Oh, I _adore_ stupid questions," said Percy. "Let's have it."

"Um. I just—um. H-how?"

"How. . . ?" he prompted.

"Were you. Um. Going to . . . kill. Ripley. Um."

"Do you mean, am I going to bite her?" he asked, smiling. Flashes of white teeth showed as he spoke.

"That—y-yeah, is sort of what I was asking, uh-huh."

"No, Keyleth, I believe I'm going to blow her fucking brains out," Percy said, peering through one of Pepperbox's barrels. He blew it out, utterly nonchalant.

"Oh," said Keyleth, her insides squirming. "Okay. I—I don't think I actually . . . wanted to know that! Hah hah, well, okay, good—good talk! Great. So . . . so what're we going to—do? For the rest of the entire day? Alone, here?"

"Haven't the foggiest," said Percy. "I have a little pet project I was going to work on. You're welcome to assist, if you'd like."

"S-sure," said Keyleth. "Yeah, yeah, I can—I can do that!"

Percy looked over at her, a little smile playing over his pale lips.

"You're frightened of me," he said.

Keyleth drew back, her heart skipping a beat. "W-well, um—well, no, _no,_ not really, just—just, I-hi-hi don't know, Percy, _me?_ Af-afraid of _you?_ That's—that's silly, why would I—"

"No no," he said. "You've every right to be. I just wanted you to know that I don't hold it against you. So long as you promise not to turn me into dust at the drop of a hat, because I know you can. It sounds rather unpleasant, you know."

"Oh," said Keyleth. The warmth of sunlight tickled her palms for a moment as she considered the spell that had destroyed Silas Briarwood, and several more before him. "Y-yeah. I'm—yeah, no, I'm not going to—do anything. Like that. To you."

"Wonderful," said Percy. He got up and stretched. "Now. About this little project of mine. . . ."

* * *

 

The Braving Grounds was as jovial as ever, but Vex was having none of it. She kept looking over her shoulder, her hair still standing on end. She kept hearing Percy's voice, cold and grey at the bottom of her thoughts.

 _How I should_ _ love _ _to spend a day alone with you._

"Sister?" Vax said at her elbow. She nearly jumped out of her skin, and swatted his arm.

"Don't _do_ that," she said. "Gods, you're too sneaky for your own good."

"Sorry," said Vax. "Something's wrong with you, I can tell. Want to talk about it?"

"No," said Vex. "And—nothing's wrong. I'm fine. Let's just focus on finding Pike, shall we? And keeping Grog from getting drunk, it _is_ still before noon."

"What?" Grog said. He was trailing behind with Scanlan, moseying along unhurried, a sort of peace on his broad gray face.

"Nothing, darling," Vex called back to him.

"Vex'ahlia, I'm serious," Vax said. "Something's come over you, and it _worries_ me. What's with all this—aggression? And now you're jumping at shadows, and you can't tell me that's normal."

"I don't trust Percival," Vex said. "And I don't understand why the rest of you do."

"I don't!" Scanlan called. "Just putting that out there!"

"He hasn't _done_ anything, Vex'ahlia, I don't understand why you're _being_ like this!"

"Hasn't—you _heard_ the way he was talking, brother! The way he looked at me, the—the things he said—!"

"He only behaves like that when you antagonize him!" Vax said. "You treat him like a monster and so he acts like one. _I_ don't know what he's getting out of it, but I know he doesn't _mean_ anything by it!"

"You _don't_ know that," Vex retorted. "You _do not know_ that, brother. I just—I think—I'm worried—"

"What?" said Vax.

Vex chewed her lip, then took his elbow and hurried ahead with him, leaving Grog and Scanlan behind. She leaned in close and murmured in his ear, her eyes darting.

"What if this is about Cassandra?" she said, the words making her bones shiver. She still remembered the look on the young woman's face as she'd died, in the darkness far beneath Whitestone.

Fear. Surprise. _Grief._ The glazed, slack-jawed pallor of death.

Vax was quiet for a time, breathing heavy through his nose, his lips tight together and a thin line between his brows.

"No," he said at last. "Percy wouldn't."

"Wouldn't _what,_ brother? Wouldn't want vengeance? You _know_ what he's like about his family. I _murdered_ his sister!"

"Who was already a traitor! He _knows_ that!"

"Does he, Vax? Do _we?"_

Vax shook his head, ridding himself of the bothersome doubts like a horse rids itself of flies.

"This doesn't _mean_ anything, sister. The way he treats you is just—Percy being Percy. He's a bit of an ass, and he's trying to make a point. If you just stop _picking_ at him, I know he'll stop."

"Brother—"

"Look, _I_ don't like it either, Vex'ahlia," he cut her off. "It scares me, too, but I really don't think it's as serious as you're making it out to be!"

"Hey," Scanlan said, at Vex's other elbow. She screamed and jumped about a foot in the air. "Sorry. Look, what are you two whispering about up here? I want to be in on the secrets."

"Nothing, you horrible little man," Vex said. "Why don't you run along and see if you can convince anybody to tell you where Pike went?"

"Good plan!" said Scanlan. "Grog! Come on, we're going to go find a bar!"

 _"Finally,"_ Grog said. He strode off after Scanlan, taking one step to every six of the gnome's.

"Sister—" Vax began, still in that conspiratorial tone.

"Forget it," Vex said. "Let's just focus on finding Pike, all right?"

"All right," Vax said mildly.

Vex started off after Grog and Scanlan, trying to ignore the niggling doubts squirming at the back of her mind.

 _How I should_ _ love _ _to spend a day alone with_ _ you. _


	8. Chapter 8

The Braving Grounds proved to be a frustrating nest of half-information. While plenty of people had seen Pike—she was evidently quite remarkable, this tiny gnome glowing with the light of Sarenrae and yelling raucously at the fights going on in the Crucible—absolutely _no one_ had seen Ripley. To be sure, there were plenty of one-handed women about, but none of them had thus far managed to construct a mechanical replacement for themselves.

"She _did_ disguise herself, before," Scanlan said, glaring into his ale. They were seated at a corner table in the latest tavern, after wasting the entire morning chasing after straws. "She's probably done it here, too."

"But Pike mentioned her _name_ to the old cleric," Vax said, irritated. _"She_ must have known who she was dealing with."

"Oh, don't you start that again, brother," Vex said.

"I'm not _starting_ anything, Vex'ahlia," Vax retorted. "I'm just pointing out _facts._ I'm sorry if those are inconvenient to you—"

"All right, _both_ of you shut up," Scanlan said, bringing his fist down on the table. It made a surprisingly loud _thunk._ "If Pike were here, she'd tell you all to get along and you'd _listen._ But Pike's _not_ here, so I'm having to fill in, and I'm not doing a very good job! But all of this stupid _bickering_ isn't finding her any faster, so unless either of you two have any actual _ideas,_ shut up!"

Vax folded his arms, fuming. Vex tossed her hair over her shoulder and folded her hands in her lap primly.

"Right," Grog said, frowning at the table. "Sooooo, basic'ly, what do we know? Pike's gone, Ripley's with her, fuck all else. Right?"

"You've summed it up admirably," said Scanlan.

"Right, time for my plan. Who's got earrings? Vax, have you got one? Come on, I'm like, the only person who doesn't have one, you all start callin', Professor Grog says."

Vax let out a put-upon sigh and pinched his earring. "Pike," he said dully. "Can you hear me. It's Vax. We're all here, looking for you. Please pick up if you're there."

There was a long moment of silence. Vax let go of his earlobe.

"There, happy now, big guy?"

"No," said Grog, as though it was obvious. "You've gotta walk around a bit, of course she's not like, _right here—"_

There was a very slight pause while everyone waited for the dramatic tension of the universe to whisper back in Vax's ear. When it didn't, the company let out a breath and hunched over their drinks.

"Right, anyway, there's like, _alllll_ of Vasselheim she could be in," said Grog.

"I hate to say it," Vex said, "but it may be the best plan we've got at the moment. If we all split up—Grog can stay with Scanlan—we can cover quite a bit of ground. Not the _whole city,_ but some of it."

"What's the range on these things, like a mile?" Scanlan asked. "If we do a grid pattern, each of us two miles from each other, that's six miles covered at once. We'll do a grid-search, as much as possible, these streets are _really_ twisty—"

Scanlan kept talking, laying out tactical plans. The food arrived and the four of them ate, halfheartedly discussing the idea. It wasn't terrifically complicated, and the only thing that really needed deciding was when and where they were all going to meet back up. They decided on the inn where they had rooms, and sunset.

With lunch finished and paid for, they started out to form their line. Scanlan and Grog would stay next to this particular tavern, while the other two would spread further out, Vax nearer and Vex farther.

The twins walked in silence for a time, shoulder-to-shoulder in the bustling crowd.

"Vax?" Vex said quietly.

"Yes, sister dear?"

"Please don't go back to our rooms alone."

He clenched his jaw. "And why not?"

"I don't . . . I just don't want anything to happen to you."

"Nothing's going to _happen_ to me, Vex'ahlia. What on earth would _happen_ to me?"

"Just—Vax, darling, you haven't seen the way Percy looks at you. I don't trust him, you know that already, but I _especially_ don't trust him with _you."_

"Percy's not going to do anything to me," Vax said, waving away her concerns. There was, however, a little worm of doubt wriggling in his stomach. He digested it, reminding himself that he and Percy had an arrangement that was perfectly sane and aboveboard.

"I wish I could believe you," said Vex. "Just promise me you won't be alone with him. That's all I'm asking."

"I'll promise no such thing," he answered. "I'm not a child to be mothered, Vex'ahlia."

"I'm not _mothering_ you, I'm asking you, for the sake of your own safety—"

"What makes you think I haven't already thought of all this?" Vax cut her off. "What makes you think I'm so stupid that I haven't noticed something's wrong with Percy? I _know_ he's getting worse, I _know_ he can't hold back the beast forever—"

"But you _don't_ know how much of it hangs off _you!_ He watches you every chance he gets, he _keeps_ coming up with excuses to be alone with you, and now he's been sneaking into your room at night? Calling you— _dearest_ like you're—like you're—"

"Like I'm _what?"_ Vax asked, his voice cold. "And how do you know he's been watching me, unless _you've_ been watching _him?"_

"Of course I've been watching him! Haven't _you?_ Hasn't _everyone?"_

"Vex'ahlia, what do you think is going to happen? What are you so _afraid_ of?"

"That he's—that—you remember what Silas Briarwood did to you!"

"How could I forget," Vax drawled. His skin still crawled sometimes with the utter _pleasantness_ of it.

"I'm not sure Percy's not trying to do the same thing," Vex said quietly. And then, even quieter, "I'm not sure he's not already started."

Vax was quiet for a time, then looped an arm around his sister's shoulders.

"I'll be as careful as I know how to be, sister dear," he said, and kissed her hair. "But no promises."

"I suppose that'll have to do," Vex sighed.

He squeezed her. "Thanks for looking out for me, Stubby."

"You're welcome," she said. "But I'd prefer it if you could look after yourself."

"Me?" said Vax, grinning. "Never."

* * *

 

They searched until sunset, whispering into the void and listening for even a hint of response. Every so often, Vax would stray too close to one side or the other and hear a faint and crackling call of _Pike? Pike?_ But never did he hear her answer.

When his feet were sore and his ear was tingly from all the attention paid to it and the sun was low and golden in the sky, Vax turned his weary footsteps back towards the inn. It was dark by the time he got there, and he got himself a table in the tavern downstairs, waiting for the others to arrive. He presumed they would have had the same idea he had—ale and food after a long and unproductive day—and so their absence downstairs led him to believe they hadn't returned yet. He had half a mind to go upstairs and relieve Keyleth of her Percy-watching duties, but something of Vex's warning had wormed its way under his fingernails, and he was reluctant to disobey so soon.

Within half an hour, Scanlan, Grog, and Vex arrived at the inn. They settled at the table with him, and the slump of their shoulders told him their search had been just as unproductive as his own.

"Someone should go tell Keyleth we're back," Vax mentioned, when the ale had come but the food had not.

"Un-dibs," Scanlan said, his voice lacking its usual merriment.

"I will," Vex said, setting down her ale and getting up from the table.

"If you're not back in ten minutes, shall I send a search party?" Vax asked, reaching for levity and falling somewhat short.

"Make it five," said Vex. She ruffled his hair and set off, her hands slowly clenching and unclenching at her sides as she wound her way through the crowd.

Vax muttered discontentedly into his ale, pretending he wasn't worried. He glanced incessantly at the stairs for the next few minutes, counting down in his head.

After four minutes, Vex returned with Keyleth on her arm, laughing and chatting easily. She brought Keyleth over and went to get her an ale.

"Hi everybody!" Keyleth said, a little too brightly. Her dark skin was waxy, and there was a panicked wideness to her eyes. "How—how'd everything go? Good? Didja—didja find Pike?"

"No," Scanlan said miserably.

"We did my idea," Grog said proudly. He'd already finished his ale and had, somehow, gotten another. "It worked great. Except for us not finding Pike."

"That's . . . great!" said Keyleth. "And everybody's . . . okay? Now? Here?"

Vax glanced at the bar. Vex had evidently been having trouble getting the barkeep's attention, because she was now holding him by the collar of his shirt and speaking very clearly about two inches from his face.

"We're fine," he said. "How's Percy?"

 _"Ohhh,_ y'know, he's—he's fine," Keyleth said, her voice high and trembling. She toyed with her hair, brushing it through her hands repeatedly. "Um. Yeah. Fine! Good."

"Are _you_ all right?" Vax asked, some tenderness creeping into his voice. He started to reach out to her, to touch her arm, then thought better of it. He put his hand in his lap and looked nearly at her.

"I'm? Fine?" Keyleth said, as though guessing the answer to a question she hadn't understood. "Fine, mm-hm, all good here. Just—it was a _really_ long day, and _really_ awkward, _you_ know, hahah. Like, being stuck in a room with somebody all _day,_ you just kind of—you both run out of things to _say,_ and then you just have to sit there in _silence,_ and—and there was really nothing to _do,_ and it was—but it's fine! I'm fine."

Vax was about to answer—somehow, he wasn't even sure what he was going to say—when Vex sat back down, plonking a stein of ale down in front of Keyleth, who dove into it with no small amount of relief.

"Well," Vex sighed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "What _now?"_

"We eat our dinner and go to sleep like good little children?" Vax guessed, raising an eyebrow.

"I _meant_ about finding Pike," Vex said rolling her eyes. Vax kicked her shin under the table. She kicked him back.

"Unless anyone has any better ideas, we might as well stick with Grog's," Scanlan said, although he didn't sound happy about it.

"That's right," Grog said, puffing himself up. "It's pretty much the best idea ever. It'll _totally_ work if we keep trying."

"We could see about Percy's black powder merchant," Vax said.

"If he's still alive," Scanlan muttered.

"Is there—I mean, is there anything he could tell us that we didn't already . . . get? From Percy?" Keyleth asked. Her hands were cradling her stein of ale, holding it close to her chest.

Vax shrugged. He suddenly wanted nothing more to do with the conversation, or with this particular company. He longed for sleep, or at least for solitude. The noise of the tavern was getting under his skin. He drained his ale and stood up.

"Where are you going?" Vex demanded, making as though to rise.

"Out," Vax said shortly. "Don't wait up for me."

"Vax—" she began, but he was already off, out into the freezing night with his cloak pulled tight around him.

The whole thing was just so damnably _frustrating._ Everything they did seemed to lead to dead ends, and everyone was winding tighter all the time. There was never a moment's rest, never a moment for the tension to release. It was the compounding of Pike being missing and Percy being . . . _unwell._ If it had just been one or the other, it might have been bearable, but as things stood, Vax could see the party splintering around him, cracking along fault lines long-dormant under a different direction of stress. When the pressure was exterior, the cracks pressed together, holding them all tighter, lending them strength and flexibility—but now, with the tension pulling from the inside, they were breaking apart like sea ice in the summer.

Even his sister was drifting away alarmingly fast, and he could see himself shoving at her, powerless to stop himself, as though his hands were a stranger's, as though his actions were scripted for him—and yet, in the moment, they always made perfect sense, and he couldn't think of a single thing he could do differently. He was simply left with his fingers full of splinters and his heart full of ice.

Vax walked for nearly two hours before returning to the inn, with numb hands and aching feet, his nose running and his ears stinging with the cold. The tavern downstairs had quieted somewhat, and the rest of his party had evidently gone upstairs. Still without dinner, but not feeling at all hungry, Vax headed up after them, hoping for an early night to sleep off the exhaustion of a fruitless day of wandering.

At the top of the stairs, he very nearly literally ran into Percy. He pulled up short, his heart skipping a beat, his hand flying to the dagger at his hip. Percy took in the movement, some half-formed expression flicking across his face too quickly to be identified.

"Vax," he said quietly. Just that. His face was gray. His hands were shaking at his sides.

"Percival," Vax replied. He did not take his hand off his dagger.

"Could I—borrow you for a moment?" Percy said. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips, his eyes flicking to one side as though he longed to look over his shoulder.

"For what?" Vax asked, cautious.

"It's—personal, I'm afraid," said Percy. His gaze, just for a moment, seemed to get stuck on Vax's throat.

"Oh," said Vax. Slowly, he took his hand off his dagger. "Is it . . . serious?"

"Yes," said Percy. He did look over his shoulder then, a quick and rabbity motion. "Could we—somewhere else?"

"If we must," said Vax. His heartbeat had not slowed since the first startle, and something in his stomach was making him feel ill.

Percy turned on the instant and started off down the hall, his hands picking little patterns out of the air. Vax followed, his footsteps making no sound upon the floor. Percy stopped at a door, glanced up and down the hallway, and pushed it open.

"Hang on, that isn't one of ours," Vax said, putting a hand on Percy's shoulder.

"It's empty, I—found it," Percy said, speaking too quickly. He stared at Vax's hand for longer than was comfortable, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. He darted inside the room. Vax followed him, closing the door softly. He did not lock it. Percy started pacing the room, like a tiger in a too-small cage.

"All right, Percival, what's this about?" Vax asked, although he was sure he already knew.

"I need—as per our—arrangement—and I know it's too soon—"

"I thought that might be it," said Vax. Although the room was chilly, he wiped sweating palms on his trousers. There was only the slightest tremor in his voice.

"It's terrible of me, I know," Percy said. As he paced by, he glanced at Vax, although not at his face. "I held off as long as I could, but—things have gotten desperate, and I couldn't—I can't risk—."

"It's all right, Percy," Vax said, although there was a significant part of him that was certain it wasn't. "I said I would help, and I'll help, if you need me to."

"I hate having to do this," Percy said. His hands were shaking, making short, sharp gestures and pushing back through his hair. "I hate having to come— _crawling_ to you like this, just so that I can be _civil._ I despise it, I despise every _inch_ of it—"

"Percy," Vax interrupted, half tempted to catch him as he went past on his endless pacing. "It's all right."

"It's _not_ all right," Percy retorted. "It's monstrous, it's _pathetic—"_

"Really, Percival, I think you're being a bit dramatic about all this."

Percy rounded on him. His eyes were wild, and there was a kind of taut desperation in his posture.

"You've seen what I'm like," he hissed. "It's this _place._ It's this damnable _place._ Never a moment's rest, never an instant without some fetid god breathing down my neck, I'm _drowning_ in holiness. You don't know what it's like. It's unbearable. You've seen what it's been doing to me."

"I have," said Vax, pacifying. "Which is why, Percival, I _don't mind._ I said I would help, and I intend to follow through on that, no matter the time nor place. Nor _reason._ I _understand,_ Percy. You're not you when you're hungry."

Percy watched him for a moment, and a sort of pained smile crept onto his face. He shook his head.

"I heard a sound," he said, his voice distant. He made a small, abortive gesture. "As of a thousand voices crying out in pain from a terrible joke."

"Funny, I thought I heard the same," said Vax. "But I do mean it, Percy. I gave you my word, and I'm not going back on it. You haven't got to justify yourself to me."

Percy turned to him, and to Vax's astonishment, there were tears in his eyes.

"Thank you," he effused. "Vax, thank you, I'll—I'll find some way to make it up to you, I swear it."

"Just—get back to being you again," Vax said. "That'd be more than enough. And—for God's sake, stop antagonizing my sister."

"Yes, I—yes, that's fair," said Percy. He straightened his vest and cleared his throat, looking at the ceiling and blinking until the tears cleared from his eyes. "Well. Shall we—get this over with?"

"No time like the present," said Vax. With only a moment's hesitation, he held out a hand to Percy.

Percy took it, and drew him close, like a dancer at a ball. Vax felt light as air, his feet skimming over the ground, his heart leaping. Percy put a gentle hand at the base of his skull, pushing his fingertips into Vax's hair.

"This shouldn't take long," Percy murmured. "Just relax."

His voice made Vax's eardrums tingle. Vax was having a hard time catching his breath, standing so close and with that red-wine voice in his ears. Percy leaned in, and Vax's head tipped to the side almost of its own accord.

There was a pause, a sigh of breath against his neck, a skipped beat in the pounding of his heart.

The fangs sank into his skin like daggers through silk, and pain shot through his neck. He tensed, and Percy's hands tightened on his hair, his hand, clutching him closer, and something between a moan and a growl shivered out of Percy's throat. Vax clung weakly at his vest, trying to quell the panic rising in his chest, the weakness seeping through him as Percy drank long and deep.

And quite suddenly, he found himself unafraid. The panic evaporated with a sigh, the weakness became a warm sort of torpor like a long morning spent in bed. Vax melted against Percy, and Percy held him up, no longer clutching and desperate but gentle, careful, tender. The fangs left his throat and blood trickled into his collar and suddenly Percy was kissing him.

He tasted of blood, nothing but blood, bitter and sharp and metallic. His lips were sticky with it, his tongue slick, but all warm and all winsome and all _wanting._ Vax trembled in his arms, leaned against his chest like a damsel with his knees weak and his head spinning and the warmth in his veins rising to a sunset-orange heat.

Percy pulled away and, when Vax chased after him, held him back by his hair. His grey eyes were luminous as clouds across a full moon, his cheeks flushed, his lips smeared with the brilliant crimson paint of Vax's blood. He relinquished his hold on Vax's hand to brush a thumb along his jaw, breathing deep and even.

 _"Gods_ I've wanted you," he murmured, eyes roving over Vax's face. Vax's knees almost went out from under him.

"Percy—" he whispered, his voice scarcely a thread amidst all the trembling flame of him. His own blood was on his breath, sticky on his lips like sweets, his whole body aching with want. If Percy didn't kiss him again he would _die._

"Say you're mine, Vax," Percy said, wanting, pleading. "Let me do with you as I please."

"Anything," Vax breathed, trying to get at him and foiled utterly by the immovable hand in his hair.

Percy smiled, red lips pulling away from red-stained teeth, and a shiver ran up Vax's spine that drove all the breath from his lungs and the thoughts from his head and the strength from his limbs.

"My Vax," he murmured, "my darling Vax'ildan."

And he kissed him again, and all was right with the world.


	9. Chapter 9

Pike would never have described her life as _dull._

 _Tedious,_ perhaps, even _boring_ at times, but _dull_ was a thing reserved for people outside the glaring light of Sarenrae. Sometimes things sparkled under it, made more lovely by its touch, and sometimes they were washed out to a hollow whiteness, sketched lines on a blank canvas waiting to be filled in, but never were they plain, never lusterless.

The long voyage to Whitestone was _dull._

No airship had been available to take her, so she'd had to go by sea. Nothing had attacked the ship, no pirates nor monsters nor even foul weather. They had been becalmed for six days now, and Pike was growing tempted to call on Sarenrae for divine intervention, lest she lose her mind from boredom before the ship's stores ran out and they all starved to death.

If only Keyleth were here, she'd thought, day after day, her chin propped on her hand as she stared out at the blue-green glass plate of the ocean beneath them, the blue china sky overhead. There had been days like this before, long ago, before Vox Machina and the delightful scramble that was their existence, and she knew there was nothing for it but to wait it out. A ship this size could not be rowed, and she didn't have the crew for it, besides. Mostly Pike passed the time trading raucous stories with the sailors, but she could see their morale dropping daily, sometimes hourly.

If the winds did not come, they would die here. The ocean could kill you in many more ways than drowning, and some were markedly more dreadful.

As she stood staring out at the blank horizon, leaned on the ship's railing (though it came up to her chin), someone stepped up next to her. She glanced up, and Anna Ripley glanced down, raising her eyebrows and sketching a smile.

"Looks like another beautiful day!" Pike commented, although there was a note of strain in her voice.

"Horribly so," Ripley agreed. She rested her elbows on the railing, the fingers of her mechanical hand clicking against the polished wood. "I'm beginning to think we should have waited for an airship."

"No," said Pike, "no, it's okay. These things happen. We'll get there, it'll be fine."

But there was a gnawing doubt in Pike's stomach, chewing up her insides just a little bit at a time. It had all been so sudden, and she hadn't had time to leave word of where she was going—not at the temple, and not to Vox Machina, either. She'd intended to just drop in on them when the ship arrived in Emon, but that decision was starting to look more and more like a mistake.

There had been a definite sense of urgency, though, when Ripley had turned up on the doorstep of the temple, disheveled with travel and wild around the eyes. At the sight of her, there was a part of Pike—larger than she would have liked—that wanted to strike her down upon the instant, traitor and trickster and thief that she was.

"I know," Ripley had said, as though reading Pike's mind, and that more than anything had stayed her hand. "But you must know what's happened in Whitestone. Not two months ago, Percival de Rolo got up and left his grave. A boy was found dead just outside the cemetery, drained of all his blood."

"Oh," Pike said, clutching the holy symbol around her neck. Nightmarish images hovered at the base of her consciousness—Silas Briarwood's hand in Percy's hair and fangs in his neck and a look of pale shock, nearer to inconvenience, on Percy's face.

 _Oh, damn,_ he would have said mildly. Shortly after he'd died on the floor. She hadn't been there, but she'd imagined it so, so many times. . . .

Pike shook herself back to the present. "Well," she said, "I think you'd better come in."

Ripley had thanked her effusively, and Pike had gotten one of the clerics to make tea. She'd sat down with Ripley in the nave, listening attentively.

The dead boy had been discovered first, then the disturbed grave, then the broken and empty coffin inside. Ripley, having remained in town after her escape, had been observing in disguise, unwilling to leave her research and having, of course, nowhere else to go. Upon hearing of the disturbing events involving the last de Rolo, she had struck out immediately for Vasselheim and Pike.

"Okay," Pike had said, dubious. "But . . . why? Not that I'm not _glad_ but . . . I dunno, I'm just having a little trouble understanding, is all."

Ripley had shrugged, sipping her tea. "You and I both have a certain interest in Percival. Mine is perhaps more professional, but—nonetheless."

"Yeah, I still don't really understand, I'm sorry."

She'd smiled then, set down her teacup and met Pike's eyes with a kind of unsettling intensity.

"Percival is a remarkable young man," she said, "and to my knowledge, his opinions of me have not changed since he died. While I am . . . ahah, _delighted_ at the idea of having the opportunity to pick his brains concerning his little weapons. . . ."

Her tongue flicked across the backs of her teeth as she smiled, and her eyes sparkled.

"I also don't fancy the idea of him catching up with me again," she went on. "Especially given the manner in which we parted. And _especially_ given his current likely . . . condition. I've dealt quite enough with vampires for one lifetime."

"That's . . . nice," said Pike. "But why me?"

"I'm sure you and your friends would enjoy the opportunity to restore Percival to his . . . former self," said Ripley. "The disposition of your god being what it is, I thought it wise to find you first. Second chances, and all. I wasn't confident the others wouldn't murder me on sight, and that would rather put a wrench in my plans."

"Oh, yeah, that's . . . probably true," Pike said, nodding. "You _did_ kind of trick and betray us, and that _was_ kind of awful."

"It was," said Ripley. "And I don't expect your trust. I'm only proposing an alliance until Percival is . . . dealt with. I must point out that I _don't_ want him dead. Quite the contrary, in fact."

Pike took a deep breath and sighed it out again. "Well," she'd said, "I don't know how much I can do, but I'll certainly try!"

"Wonderful," said Ripley. "I think the place to start is Whitestone. That's where the trail begins, and if I know anything about vampires—and I know far more about vampires than I ever wanted to—that's where he'll return, sooner or later."

They'd been on a ship by evening, well underway by nightfall. They had sailed for two days and then the wind had died and left them floating aimlessly on the currents like a fishing bobber in an eddy. The days had passed, hot and stifling and terribly still.

A breath of wind stirred Pike's hair, and she perked up as though it was a gust to fill the sails.

"Hey," she said, "did you feel that?"

"I'm not much experienced with sailing," Ripley admitted. "Is that a good sign?"

"Well, it's not a bad one," Pike said.

Ripley smiled. "I like you, little one," she said fondly.

"Yeah," said Pike, "I like me, too."

* * *

 

The wind picked up the next day, and six days later, they made landfall in Emon. The ship's stores were depleted, but not entirely gone, and though they'd had to ration food and water, no one had died, or even taken ill. While Ripley wanted to go straight on to Whitestone, Pike convinced her to stay, to come to the keep so that she could be present while Pike explained the situation to the rest of Vox Machina.

"I don't think anybody'll hurt you, if I'm with you," Pike said, walking with Ripley up the wide path to the front gate of Greyskull Keep. "Especially if, y'know, Percy isn't there."

"We can only hope," said Ripley. "I wouldn't feel terribly optimistic for your friends' safety if he were."

"Oh, now that's—I'm sure that's not a problem," Pike said.

"You don't think Percival would hurt them?" Ripley asked, raising an eyebrow. "If so, I find your loyalty . . . _inspiring,_ if naïve."

"No, no," Pike sighed. "I just think they'd probably kill him. Y'know, if he tried anything vampire-y."

Ripley raised her eyebrows. "They're smarter than they look, in that case."

 _"Well,"_ said Pike. "Probably just trigger-happy, honestly. But I'm sure it's fine."

They approached the gate, and Shane called down, _"Who goes there?"_

"Hi!" Pike called back, waving and grinning. "It's me!"

Shane's jaw dropped. "Well, I'll be damned," she said. "Second time in as many months. Hang on! Just a minute!" She darted away from the wall, and a few moments later, the gate opened.

"Hi Shane!" Pike said again. "This is Anna Ripley, if she tries anything funny, you can shoot her."

"Thank you," Ripley said dryly.

"Where's everybody? Are they here?"

Shane shook her head. "You've just missed them. They left two days ago, set off for Vasselheim, looking for you."

"They—oh, darn!" Pike cried, stamping her foot. "Why? I never got any letters from them or anything!"

"They only started trying to reach you three weeks ago," Shane said. "When . . . well, I guess he's a lord now— _Lord_ Percival came back."

"Oh, _dear,"_ Ripley said quietly. Pike resisted the urge to kick her kneecap out.

"Percy?" she said. "He—he's . . . I mean, he was—"

Shane shook her head. "It was all very strange. He seemed . . . off. They locked him in the workshop for a while, waiting to hear back from you, and then Mr. Scanlan got very agitated because you hadn't answered."

"Were they just using normal letters?" Pike asked. "Because—oh, gosh, I must've left Vasselheim just before the letters got there. _Crud!_ You said they left two days ago?"

"That's right. They seemed convinced something had happened to you." Shane glanced at Ripley. "Uh, if you don't mind my asking, what's she doing here?"

"I was privy to Percival's _miraculous_ recovery," Ripley said. "I thought I might bring the happy news."

"Right?" said Shane, her eyes darting. "All right. Well, if you two want to come in, Laina and Erwin are about, I'm sure they could cook up something for you."

"We should keep moving," Ripley said. "Although I wouldn't say no to a decent meal."

"Keep moving?" said Pike. "No, no no, we have to go back to Vasselheim. I mean, that's where everybody is, right?"

"Could we discuss this over a meal?" Ripley inquired. "I do so hate doing business on an empty stomach."

Pike clenched her fists, but managed to keep her voice under control. "All right," she said. "Come on in. Shane, could you tell Laina and Erwin we're here? Just something quick is fine, we're not staying long. Sorry."

"Yes ma'am," said Shane, saluting. She hurried off. Pike took Ripley to the dining room, which was too quiet and too empty with just the two of them.

"Now," said Ripley, settling into a chair and lacing her hands together, the flesh and the mechanical. She regarded Pike over her fingers. "I feel we should continue on to Whitestone. We can send word from here that it's our destination, and your friends can meet us there, presumably with Percival in tow."

"But . . . _why?"_ Pike asked. "Why not just go back to Vasselheim?"

"Quite honestly, because I'm sick of travel," Ripley said flatly.

"So why not just stay here, and wait for them to come back? It'll only be a few days, if we send off a letter by magic. I can probably find somebody to do that. I bet Gilmore would know how, I'm sure he'd understand."

"I think it's best that whatever's going to happen, happens in Whitestone," Ripley said. "Should anything . . . _untoward_ happen to Percival, we won't have to go very far to recover him. Grave dirt and all that, they always go back to the nearest lump of it to pull themselves back together."

"You're not _planning_ to hurt him, are you?" Pike asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Me? Not a bit. But I rather think the process of attempting to put him to rights may require a fair bit of trial and error."

"Ummmm, I feel like maybe some research would work better. We can't be the first people to try and fix something like this, I mean, right?"

Ripley shrugged. "The decision is ultimately yours. I would point out, however, that Whitestone has an extensive library which can be accessed freely—"

"Most libraries can be, yeah," said Pike, nodding. "So . . . if you want to tell me why you _really_ want us to go to Whitestone, that'd be great! Because right now I really don't want to do it, just because you do. And you're lying about it. Which is kind of really rude!"

Ripley regarded her for a long moment, her tongue between her teeth. Finally, she raised her eyebrows and smiled, sitting back in her chair.

"Very well," she said, spreading her hands. "In all honesty, because I'm without my supplies or protection here, and I do _not_ relish the idea of encountering Percival at anything less than my best. He was always rather . . . volatile, and I don't imagine the curse of undeath has done his disposition any favors."

"Well," Pike said, intending to object, but she shut her mouth again. There had always been something _vicious_ about Percy, and in the presence of the Briarwoods, it had become positively feral. Pike shifted in her chair. "Well, I mean—what _kind_ of supplies and protection? Maybe we could get you something here?"

Ripley gave her an indulgent smile. "I'm afraid that won't quite do," she said. "I have a dwelling in Whitestone, you see. One to call my own. There, I would be _unassailable_ unless, for some reason, I decided to invite him inside, which I would not. I trust nothing and no one else, especially—and I do apologize—those of your company. I doubt they would object stringently if he decided to kill me in my sleep, even if it was in their own keep."

"Well," Pike said again, "well, all right, I guess. But . . . mostly just because I can't think of any other reason you would want to go to Whitestone so bad. I _am_ going to be keeping a really close eye on you, though. Just so you know. Because I really don't trust you, at all."

"That's fair," said Ripley, inclining her head. "I wouldn't ask you to. You've shown me more courtesy and respect than I would have dared to expect already."

"Yeah," said Pike, uncomfortable.

Laina came in with the food then, and Pike put away her misgivings to be attended to later.

* * *

 

She left Ripley in Jarret's tender care, locked in a jail cell with his crossbow pointed at her chest. Ripley had objected to this, but Pike had not budged. Jarret seemed to find her haughty discomfort amusing, and Pike left him to it, hoping that Ripley would be content to wait a few hours.

Pike made her way to Gilmore's Glorious Goods. Being back in Emon put a spring in her step, no matter the dire circumstances. There was an energy about the place that was missing in Vasselheim, a kind of frantic, wholehearted joy that even the Braving Grounds couldn't provide. There were seedy street merchants and brothels and flagrantly arcane sigils everywhere, and it was utterly delightful.

Gilmore's was as cluttered and colorful and grand as she remembered. She heaved a contented sigh as she stepped in from the street, her hands on her hips. She had never regretted her work at the temple of Sarenrae, but it was nice, just for now, to be _home._

There was a young woman at the front counter, tiny glasses perched on her nose, who looked up as Pike entered. She set down the book she was paging through.

"Welcome to Gilmore's Glorious Goods," she said, in a polished voice. "Let me know if there's anything I can help you find."

"Oh! Um, it's—it's Sherri, isn't it?" Pike said, dredging up the name from the depths of her memory. "It's me! Pike! From Vox Machina?"

Sherri peered at her, raised her eyebrows, and sighed. "So it is," she said. "Should I be expecting the rest of your cohort?"

"Not today, sorry," said Pike, although she could swear that a flash of relief crossed Sherri's face. "I actually wanted to talk to Gilmore. About the rest of my _cohort,_ actually."

"He's at our other location today," Sherri said. "I could leave a message for him, or if it's not _personal,_ I could help you."

"Oh," said Pike. "Well, all right. Really I just need to get a message to Vasselheim, like, really fast. Can you do that?"

"Absolutely," said Sherri. "That's a fairly simple matter, although Vasselheim being what it is, I may have to choose the intended recipient carefully." She took out a quill and a piece of parchment. "What's the message?"

"Um, right, yes," said Pike. She came over to the counter and stood up on her tiptoes, trying to watch Sherri write, although she was too short to accomplish it. "Uhh, just say, _Hi, it's Pike. I'm okay. Sorry I missed you guys, we must have passed ships! Anyway, I'm going to Whitestone, and you can come meet me there, and we'll talk about getting Percy well again._ Um . . . _love, Pike._ Yeah. That's good. Oh, oh, um, _P. S. Ripley's with me, she's not being awful right now, so please don't kill her when you come._ All right. That's it."

Sherri's eyebrows raised and the corners of her mouth turned down, but she scribbled on without comment. She set the quill down and looked over the note.

"Any idea where in Vasselheim they might be found?" she asked. "So I know where to send my messenger."

"Um," said Pike, "nnnno, sorry, I don't."

Sherri shrugged. "They're fairly conspicuous people," Sherri said. "I'm sure they'll be easy to find. Was there anything else you needed, or was that all?"

"Well," said Pike, intending to say _no,_ but the guilt of coming into the shop and not buying anything was eating at her. "Could I just get a little healing potion? Just one of the little ones, not the big expensive ones."

"One basic potion of healing, certainly," said Sherri. She stepped out from behind the counter and out to one of the shelves, returning with the requested potion. She set it down. "Fifty gold, please."

"Is that with the discount?" Pike asked, unable to help herself.

Sherri rolled her eyes. "Of course," she muttered. "Let me calculate that for you—"

"Oh, no, actually, that's okay," said Pike. "Since you did the letter thing, that's . . . we'll just not worry about it."

The look of gratitude on Sherri's face was well worth the extra gold. Pike paid up, grabbed her potion, and headed back towards Greyskull Keep.

The next morning, she and Ripley set out for Whitestone in a chilly silence, which Pike found she rather liked.


	10. Chapter 10

The letter arrived in the middle of breakfast. It was brought in by a sketchy-looking young woman in a thick cloak who slipped it onto the table next to Vax as though he wouldn't notice. He considered catching her by the arm and interrogating her, but he settled for tripping her as she went past.

"Oh, look!" he said, making a show of discovering the letter. "What's this, that's somehow turned up on our table from nowhere?"

The deliverer ducked her head and scuttled out into a light snowfall, hurriedly shutting the door behind her.

"I think it's a letter," Vax continued, picking up the paper and peering at it.

"Who's writing us?" Scanlan asked. "If it's Uriel, we're not home."

"It doesn't say," said Vax. He opened the folded paper. The writing inside was neat and small, not a hand he recognized.

 

_Hi, it's Pike!_

_I'm okay. Sorry I missed you guys, we must have passed ships! Anyway, I'm going to Whitestone, and you can come meet me there, and we'll talk about getting Percy well again._

_Love, Pike._

 

"It's . . . from Pike," Vax said, his levity cast adrift as he sat blinking at the paper. There was an uproar as everyone at the table started asking him questions. He answered the general spirit of them as best he could. "She's—she seems okay. And she knows about Percy."

 

_P. S. Ripley's with me, she's not being awful right now, so please don't kill her when you come._

 

"Where is she?" Scanlan was demanding. "Where has she been? What's—"

"Ripley's with her," Vax said. There was another explosion of questions and he simply passed the letter around so the others could read it.

"This isn't good," Vex said, handing the letter along to Keyleth. "Something's rotten about this whole thing, and I don't like it. Why not just wait for us in Emon? I _assume_ she sent that letter from Emon, it's the first stop if you take a ship back from Vasselheim, and clearly she's not in Whitestone yet."

"If Anna's involved, it could hardly be anything _but_ rotten," said Percy.

"And that's _another_ thing," Scanlan said, leaning forward with his eyes narrowed. Grog was frowning studiously at the letter as though he understood it. "How does she know about you and your _condition?_ You didn't do anything _obvious_ before you came to find us, did you?"

Percy raised an elegant eyebrow. "Apart from claw my way out of my own grave? I should think that alone didn't go unnoticed. Perhaps Shane or Jarret explained things to her when she arrived in Emon."

"If Pike knows, Ripley _must_ know, too," said Vex. "She's up to something."

"Undoubtedly," said Percy. "Nonetheless, it's clear that Pike isn't in any immediate danger."

"Which is good!" Keyleth said. "That's really, _really_ good. This is, like, best-case scenario, right? I mean, _right?"_

"I don't like it," Vax said. "It feels like we're walking into a trap."

"Well we're not going to just sit around here and _not_ go to Whitestone," Scanlan said. "That would be idiotic."

"Why Whitestone?" Vex said. "Why there, of all places? It's got _something_ to do with Percy, that much is clear."

"You know," Percy mused, examining his fingernails. "If _I_ were Anna, and _I_ knew that Percival de Rolo had got up out of his grave hale and hearty, I would be _petrified."_

"And why is _that,_ O Master of Dramatics?" Scanlan asked.

Percy smiled, showing no teeth. "She knows what she did," he said.

"Okay, let's—let's just tone it down a little there, okay?" Keyleth said, holding up her hands in a pacifying gesture. "We know Pike's okay, right? And— _and_ we know where she is! So that's good. That's really all we wanted, I mean, right?"

"Yeah, well, and we wanted her to un-vamp Mr. Fangs over there," Grog said.

Vax glanced at Percy, who was already looking at him out of the corner of his eye. Percy shrugged.

"Right, and I've been thinking about that," said Scanlan. "Is that even _possible?_ Do we know if that's possible? Because if it's _not,_ I'm going to go ahead and _not_ be stuck on a ship with Silas Junior for—"

Percy moved so fast he was nothing but a gray and blue blur. In an instant he had Scanlan by the throat and was holding him up above the table at arm's length. Scanlan let out a choked squeal, his feet kicking uselessly at empty air. Vex had an arrow drawn in an instant and Grog slung the sword off his back, his eyes blazing. Keyleth yelped and fell out of her chair. Vax looked on in astonishment, his head fuzzy and his fingers clumsy.

"Scanlan," Percy said, in that perfectly-trimmed professional voice of his. "I would greatly appreciate it if you never called me that again."

"Put him _down,"_ Vex commanded. "Or this arrow goes through your heart."

Scanlan was choking, his face turning red as Percy's hand squeezed off his air supply. He was clawing at Percy's wrist, his fingernails leaving ruts in the flesh that oozed dark red blood like tree sap.

"All right," Percy said amicably. He dropped Scanlan, who clattered onto the table coughing and wheezing. "I do hope I've made it clear how serious I am about this."

"You're fucking _nuts,"_ Scanlan snarled, his voice hoarse. His eyes were welling with tears and his nose was running. "You've _lost_ it, Percy! Fucking shoot him. Vex, fucking _shoot_ him!"

"Oy, that's enough, little man," Vax said, getting to his feet. "Nobody's shooting anybody."

"He tried to kill me!"

"I beg to differ," said Percy.

"Not a word!" Vex snapped. "Not a _fucking_ word!"

"Sister, there's no call for—" Vax began.

"Can we all just calm—" Keyleth said at the same time.

Quietly, someone cleared their throat.

_"Ahem."_

The assembled company turned to look. The barkeep was standing at Vex's shoulder, wringing his hands apologetically.

 _"If_ you're going to cause a scene," he said, his voice clipped and proper, _"could_ you do it somewhere else, perhaps?"

Slowly, Vex lowered her bow. Scanlan clambered down off the table. Percy straightened his cuffs and kept his eyes lowered. Growling, Grog put the sword away, glaring at Percy still.

"Yes," said Vax to the barkeep. "I think we'll just be going. Percival, with me. The rest of you—find an airship or something."

"Absolutely _not,"_ Vex snapped. "You're not going _anywhere_ alone with him—"

 _"Enough!"_ Vax interrupted. "That's _enough,_ sister. Percival, come on."

He stalked out, leaving most of his breakfast behind. Outside, the snow tickled his face like a thousand tiny moths, swirling in the air around him. He didn't wait for Percy, just went off with his hands in his armpits and his shoulders hunched, grinding his teeth and puffing fog from his nostrils like a white dragon.

"Well, that could have gone better," Percy remarked at his elbow.

"What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?" Vax demanded, rounding on him. "What the _fuck_ was that? I thought you were _better._ I thought I _helped_ you, what the _fuck_ do you think you're playing at?"

Percy blinked at him owlishly. "I don't know what you mean," he said.

"You don't—you don't know what I _mean?"_

"I was perfectly civil."

"You picked Scanlan up by his _throat!_ You were _choking_ him!"

"Oh yes," Percy said mildly. "I suppose I was."

"And you don't find that just _slightly_ disproportionate? Not a _bit?"_

"He conflated me with Silas Briarwood," Percy said. "I think perhaps I went a bit easy on him, considering."

"Easy? You call that easy? What the fuck is _hard_ then, Percival? Gods above!"

"Vax," Percy said, and his voice was low and smooth. He touched Vax's shoulder with one cold, steady hand. "I think perhaps you're blowing this a bit out of proportion."

"I—well," said Vax, blinking. "Well, you must admit, it was a bit . . . horrible."

"I certainly didn't intend to cause a scene," Percy said. "And you know I wasn't trying to _hurt_ him. Perish the thought."

"No, no of course not," Vax mumbled. Somehow, Percy was warmer than the frigid morning, and Vax found himself drawing closer on instinct. "I never thought that, no."

"Sometimes it's simply necessary to perform a—demonstration, as it were," Percy went on. "To show how serious one is about certain issues. You understand, don't you Vax?"

"Yes, of course," said Vax, and he did. "I just—wish you wouldn't do it in front of my sister. She is so jumpy about you already."

"I know," Percy sighed. "And I recognize I may not be _quite_ back to normal. I didn't want to hurt you, you know. Take more than was necessary. It may have left me a bit . . . lacking."

"Well—well you haven't got to hold back on—"

 _"Get_ your hands off him!"

Percy's hand was gone from his shoulder in an instant, and Vex was storming up through the snow with fire on her breath. She shoved Percy away, interposing herself between him and Vax. Percy held up his hands with an amiable smile.

"We were only talking, Vex," he said.

"Don't. Touch. Him," Vex growled. "Don't you dare. Never again, you understand me? _Never_ again."

"I understand," Percy said gently.

"Stubby, I think perhaps you're blowing this out of proportion," Vax said, distressed.

Vex grabbed him by the arm and started hauling him off, her fingers bruising-tight.

"Don't even start," she said. "Don't even _start,_ Vax'ildan, don't you dare."

Her voice was thick with tears. He decided not to press the issue.

* * *

 

By evening, they had managed to buy passage on an airship to Emon, departing the next morning. It was outrageously expensive, especially given that Vex's haggling was somewhat lackluster. Vax generally kept out of it, hanging at the rear of the group and throwing frequent glances at the sky. The cloud cover was holding, but even so, Percy had elected to remain with their things in the inn. No one had objected. Still, if the clouds broke, it might prove difficult to get Percy aboard. Vax wasn't sure what would happen to him in full sunlight, but he imagined it wouldn't be pleasant.

He found he couldn't bear for anything unpleasant to happen to Percy.

Vax slept fitfully that night, haunted by vague nightmares that left him waking in the dark with his heart pounding and his head empty. He could never recall what the dreams had been, only that they had frightened him, and would drift back off to sleep uneasy, only to wake again an hour or two later in yet another cold sweat.

He wished Percy were there.

The next day dawned gray and freezing, with sleet hissing down and glazing the fresh-fallen snow with a layer of ice. The roads were slick and crunchy beneath their feet. The company was quiet, and for whatever reason they walked with Percy at their head. Keyleth walked close on his right, Grog at his left elbow, Vex trailing behind him and casting wary glances over her shoulder at Vax. Scanlan brought up the rear, grumbling to himself about the weather.

They boarded the airship without difficulty, although Vex seemed loath to part with the gold. Vax chose to take comfort in this—perhaps the fresh air and sunshine would do his sister some good, bring her back closer to herself. Besides that, soon they would be in Whitestone, with Pike, and he had no doubt that with the whole company assembled, all their troubles would evaporate.

At least, at first he had no doubt. Watching the sullen countenances of his friends, he began to wonder if any of this was really worth it. Vex was quiet and sharp with anyone who spoke to her, Scanlan was jumpy, Grog bristled at the slightest provocation and Keyleth was strung so tight she seemed about to snap at any moment. He wondered if there was something they hadn't told him, some secret failing in their plan that made them all so wary and small.

Percy, although driven belowdecks when the ship rose above the clouds, seemed positively chipper. He was content to sit amidst the boxes and tinker with Pepperbox and Bad News, constructing ammunition and chatting amicably to anyone who came by. His demeanor changed abruptly, however, right about the time the ship moved out over the ocean. His hands began to shake, his face went gray and his eyes dulled. He moved to the darkest corner he could find in the cargo hold, curled up surly and snappish.

Vex kept a close watch on Vax. It started to get under his skin, the way her eyes were always on him, the way he couldn't seem to escape no matter what he did. After the first day, right about the time Percy retreated to his dark and quiet corner, it became unbearable. Vax holed up in his quarters and napped as much as possible during the day. Even so, Vex tended to look in on him frequently, never speaking, but hovering in the doorway for minutes at a time while he pretended to sleep. The ship was quickly becoming too small, and walking about on the decks in the moonlight did nothing to ease his restless energy. At the very least, he could do this alone—he was adept enough at sneaking out that he never woke Grog or Scanlan, who shared the quarters with him.

It occurred to him, on the third night, that perhaps he had better check on Percy, just in case. It seemed insensible that he should remain hidden away belowdecks even at night, when the sun wasn't about to chase him off.

Vax crept down the stairs to the cargo hold with nary a creak, stepping from the tousling breeze above into the stuffy chill below. It took him several minutes of searching silently amongst the boxes and crates and bags and ropes to find Percy. He was settled with his back against a wall and his shoulder against a crate. It was dark down there, so dark that even Vax could barely see the glint of Percy's eyes, gray as the half-moon outside.

He was watching Vax, absolutely still.

"Percy," Vax said softly.

"You shouldn't be here," said Percy. His voice was low and velvet-smooth, dark as the ocean below.

"I rarely go where I should," said Vax. "Come out from there. Get some fresh air while the sun's down. It can't be good for you to be cooped up down here."

Percy shook his head, slowly. His eyes were still fixed on Vax.

"I'm so _tired,_ Vax," he murmured. "It's something about the sea. It's . . . draining. I can't sleep. I've never been able to sleep, and I'm so _tired_ now. . . ."

"We'll have you well again soon," Vax said. "As soon as we're in Whitestone, we'll have Pike take a look at you. I'm sure she can figure something out."

"Whitestone," Percy sighed, something of cold longing in the word. "Yes, I should . . . I should very much like to go back to Whitestone. . . ."

Vax shifted uncomfortably. Percy was still watching him, and it was making his skin crawl.

"Do you . . . would it help if I. . . ." Vax said. He gestured vaguely.

Percy was quiet for a moment. There wasn't even the sound of breathing. Vax fidgeted. He rubbed the side of his neck, the twin scabs hidden beneath the high collar of his shirt.

"Are you offering?" Percy asked quietly.

"If it'll help," Vax said. "If—if you'd like."

The gleam of Percy's eyes narrowed.

"I wouldn't say no," he said.

A single pale hand raised in the darkness and beckoned. Vax went to him, picking his way around sandbags and ropes. Percy took his hand and pulled him down into his lap, ran his other hand through Vax's hair and combed out some of the tangles. His body was cold.

"Percival," Vax said, catching his wrist. "When—when all this is over, and you're well again."

Percy tipped his head to the side and raised an eyebrow.

"What about it?" he asked.

"Will this—will we—it's not that I don't _want_ you to get well, I'd just . . . like to know where we stand. Where _I_ stand. Where I _will_ stand, with you, when all this is over."

Percy smiled, drew Vax in and kissed him softly.

"I very much look forward to the day when I can want you without worrying about killing you," he said. "Although I'm not at all certain anything will ever taste as good as you do."

Vax flushed, entirely at a loss for how to respond to that. Percy laughed to himself and kissed him again, on the lips, on the cheek, on the jaw, finally on his neck. His cold fingers pulled aside Vax's collar and he nuzzled into his neck, close to the shoulder. Vax took a deep breath and braced himself, half for the pain and half for the pleasure.

The pain came. The pleasure never did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: yes, I realize now that Keyleth could have used Transport Via Plants to get them to Whitestone. I totally forgot that was a spell she had. WHOOPS. Sorry folks.


End file.
